Сейчас многие удивятся, не увидев FE первым в этом списке. Я ломаю стереотипы Шучу, FE будет позже
Nyx Underwood
The Unbearable Lightness of Being Chuck and Blair
Rated: T; Romance/Drama; Chuck & Blair. Summary: A Chuck and Blair epic-in-progress. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfilment. Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s....d_Blair
Quotes *честно говоря, выбрать цитаты из этого фика архисложно...Сам фик, одна большая цитата. Говорю сразу, Дашу занесло и она не могла выбрать, излишний романтизм меня накрыл...Старею, товарищИ, старею пы.сы. большие куски буду брать под спойлер.... *
"It's just what Chuck does. He can't help it – he just destroys things. It's like that story about the frog and the scorpion." "What – the scorpion kisses the frog?" "No, Serena," Blair said furiously – wild-eyed and gesturing widely. "The scorpion stands at the side of a river that is running to fast for him to cross. So he calls on the frog to carry him across the rapids. So of course the frog says no because he knows that the scorpion will sting him and he'll drown. But the scorpion convinces him that he would not do it because then they would both drown. So it works fine until they get to the halfway point – then the scorpion stings the frog. And as the frog starts drowning he says, 'you fool – now we both drown. Why did you do that?' And the scorpion shrugged and said 'I'm a scorpion – it's my nature.'" Serena cocked her head to the side. "So you're the frog?" "Yes I'm the frog!" Blair shouted. "And Chuck's the scorpion. He can't help it. He stings me because it's his nature – and then we both drown."
****
Chuck closed his eyes and tried to surrender himself to that white noise as Serena babbled on in that pathetic attempt of a soothing voice, which sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Frantically trying to block her out, he pressed down on the top of his skull. As her voice droned on he found himself lifting the hand up and down on his head, slapping his own skull until that didn't have enough effect and so he made a fist and punched the wall again and again until suddenly the noises that were emanating from Serena's throat and the horrified look on Nate's face disappeared from view and there was only a sharp pain in his knuckles as he broke them. Until through the haze one voice reached him. "Chuck – Chuck," Vanessa shouted, grabbing at his hand. "Stop it." It was only with the contact of her skin and her annoyed voice that he finally registered what was happening. Serena and Nate were scared of him. Dan's face was full of compassion. Eric was swallowing over and over. Chuck closed his eyes again. He had failed this test, then. He had let the mask fall and he had not put on a brave face. Maybe he was weak, like Bart had always said. But it seemed that in this moment he simply couldn't accommodate any thought of control. Vanessa's face – not sentimental, but rallying, expecting more from him, not allowing him to either shy away from the truth, or bow down to it in acquiescence – was where he turned around, where he found his voice. "What if she dies," he asked, challenging her. "What the fuck do I do if she dies?" They were looking to him for a way to understand what was happening, and at the sound of his question – the one they scarcely dared think about, but the only one that mattered – they recoiled, as one. Except for poor Vanessa, who had always had a higher than average ability to look the truth in the eye, without flinching. "Chuck - " Serena started, but before she could finish placating him, Vanessa interrupted, with a hard look on her face. "If she dies you get angry, you fall into despair, and then you claw yourself back out of it. You claw your way out because Blair would have wanted you to." "Please. Blair would prefer it if I ran ashes through my hair and wore mourning clothes forever," Chuck snorted, before sobering. "I'd be the same way. I'd never want her to move on." [1] No one knew quite what to say to that; they knew it was true. Chuck and Blair may have been determined to fight each other for every inch of their relationship, but they were so fiercely united that the very thought of them giving up that fight was inconceivable. No one could contradict him, because he knew Blair inside and out – had fought to understand her every nuance. After his hallway breakdown in front of his friends, one thing stayed with him: the question, what if she dies? Although his friends exchanged worried glances, he had calmed down in the minutes since his collapse, because of one comforting thought that had come upon him. The thought had been a very simple thing, and the only reason he had baulked at telling his friends was because it had seemed such an intimate thing. He had simply realized that if the roles were reversed and he had somehow had the opportunity to speak to Blair, he would have told her – after informing her that in the event of his death she was to join a nunnery – that she was Blair Waldorf, a survivor, and not someone who fell apart. He would have told her to strive until her last breath against despair and to show them all, all of their enemies, all of their friends, what it mean to fight.
****
"Is she going to be alright?" Grace started, glancing at the figure that had been sitting in the visitor's chair since she had entered the room. She couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed him; she had been too distracted by the destruction that had been wrought on (she glanced at the clipboard) WALDORF, Blair's body. Now that she had set eyes on him, she found it impossible to look away. His face probably would have been handsome had the combination of sleeplessness and grief had transformed it into a flat mask. His eyes were narrowed with extreme focus on the face of the girl on the bed, but they were swollen and bruised around the edges. His cheeks were too sharp; his mouth was pursed. As a nurse, Grace had seen every kind of grief, every kind of suffering. But there was nothing worse than this, the waiting and the questioning without any end in sight. It was a limbo, a void – the moment between life and death where no human should be. She had seen better looking men, but she had rarely seen a focus like this: it was as if the man (boy, really) was convinced that if he stopped concentrating the girl on the bed would slip away. It was a look too mature for its age, and for an insane moment, Grace would have done anything to swap places with the battered girl on the hospital bed. "She's going to be fine," Grace said, desperate to tell him what he would want to hear. For a moment he tore his eyes away from the girl and looked at Grace probingly. It was a terrifying thing, to feel as if someone so many years her junior could see down to the core of her. But it was worse to know that he found her foolish, found her reckless promise insulting. "You don't know anything," he said flatly, shaking his head. "What do you have to do to get some information in this fucking place?" Feeling horribly exposed, Grace felt the tears burning once more in her eyes. Determined not to let him see her cry, she crossed her arms bitchily, wanting to hurt him a little. "It's Hospital policy only to divulge information to the family. How do we know you're not some obsessive lunatic who has never even met Miss Waldorf?" Once more, he affixed his dark brown eyes on her face. Another calculating look, before he seemed to realize that there was nothing in particular worth looking at. Such an absolute dismissal that once more Grace felt her ire rising. She would have him thrown out, she thought smugly. She would force him to leave the girl's side. It seemed ridiculously unfair for him to be so arrogant on the morning when she had left her son all alone with a running nose and streaming eyes and - "Her name is Blair," he said quietly. Grace stopped dead. It was difficult to say why the sentence shocked her so deeply. But part of it was undoubtedly the fact that hiding inside this arrogant, unpleasant boy was something fierce and loving – like the tone of his voice when he said his lover's name. She was ashamed of herself for wanting to hurt him. She loved her son more than anything in the world, and she was on the verge of tears because of a measly sniffle. Blair Waldorf – the girl underneath the bruises and the tubing – was obviously the centre of his world, and she was teetering somewhere between consciousness and being lost forever. "Blair," Grace repeated, trying out the name. "And what's your name?" He opened his mouth, before thinking better of it. It could have been her imagination, but she thought he might have been on the verge of smiling at her question. But, the flash of amusement was gone almost as soon as she noticed it. "Does it matter?" "I suppose not," she said, glancing at the clipboard. "It looks like there was a compound fracture, which is where the bone pierces the skin…" she glanced up, noticing the twitch in his jaw. "But it's been set, and a metal rod has been placed in the leg to - " "Metal?" he interrupted. "She's got metal in her leg?" "To set the bone," Grace explained carefully. "Good. That's stronger," he said, possibly to himself. It was something a child might have said, and Grace's heart ached for him. "When the car hit her it seems that some of her ribs were broken – and one pierced her lung, which is why it collapsed." Noticing his look of alarm, she smiled. "It's actually not as big a deal as it seems. She's asleep now because of the drugs, to give her body some time to recuperate without pain." Somehow, his frown deepened and his hands clasped in his lap. "She'll be in pain when she wakes up?" "We'll give her something for it." He smiled ruefully. "When she sees the hospital gown you people have put her on, you're the ones who are going to need the painkillers." Grace returned the smile tentatively. "We'll just give her more sedatives if things turn ugly." Не leant forward in the chair, and Grace had the sneaking suspicion that he was afraid to touch her. "So she's going to be okay?" "Well, it looks that way. Although, complications happen." His head whipped around. "What did you say?" "I said that complications sometimes happen," she explained tentatively. He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then, he nodded to himself. "Complications happen. And we can't control them." She wasn't quite sure what they were talking about anymore. "No, we can't." There was a beat of silence. Then, awkwardly, as if he had never done so before, he thanked her. She smiled at him, and was about to ask him his name once more when the door opened to expose a surprised man standing at the entrance.
****
"But that's the thing, isn't it? We don't weigh each other down. Or if we do, it feels different." Still feeling needy, Blair stared at his profile. "How does it feel different?" Finally he turned to face her smiling crookedly at his own sentimentality. "Because when you're not around I feel too light. Like I might disappear. I'm only really on earth when you're holding onto me. It's the perfect weight to keep me on the ground. And you can only grow roots when you're feet are on the ground." She offered him a half smile, once more certain that she wasn't delusional, regaining her faith in them, but needing him to reassure her. "Don't you miss the sky?" The space between them seemed to disappear and suddenly his lips were right next to hers. Sometimes he fell into these moods: when his speech was full of meaning, rich with imagery, when he spoke with a wide sweep of romanticism. "I can still see it. You just don't let me get lost in it. Because that'd be unbearable, I think." "An unbearable lightness," Blair teased, until world and sky disappeared and there was only the two of them.
****
"Look at you sending the love of your life out the door?" Vanessa asked per She grimaced. "Well don't look at me today, look at me before this mess. I used to think Nate was the most important thing in my world, until I found Chuck." "And what happened when you found him?" Blair closed her eyes, shrugging helplessly. "Chuck became my world."
****
When people who had not been there would come to talk about it, she found that they would never get it quite right. "My what a terrible ordeal you went through," they'd exclaim, flush with the triumph of saying the most appropriate thing. They would hold their wine glasses close to their faces and nod seriously at her, unaware of the pedestrian nature of their responses. And each time it happened, even as she nodded demurely, Blair would know that they hadn't understood it at all. They hadn't even come close. Because although the road to recovery was long and arduous, marked by frustrated tears and inordinate exhaustion, Blair knew that what they were talking about was the event itself and the surgeries that followed straight after. For her, the entire ordeal had passed like a long night of dreamless sleep. The "ordeal", as they called it, had been occurring on the outside. It had probably been an ordeal for the team of surgeons, who worked into the late hours, fuelled by the feeling of holding in their hands the life of someone so many years their junior. It had played itself out in the waiting room outside, between her parents and her friends. It had been speculated upon by the world outside of the hospital, in Gossip Girl posts – ("Ohmygod it's so like in Mean Girls when Regina gets hit by a bus," or "Who will get her clothes if she dies?") – and in the halls of Constance – ("I bet Nelly Yuki is gunning for valedictorian now"). But most of all, the ordeal had occurred neatly within the confines of Chuck Bass's head. She had never fancied herself a selfless person; she knew that as recently as two years ago she would have collected sympathy like flowers to put by her bedside. She would have sighed at the right moments: just enough to inspire sympathy. And she would have sent Nate on pointless errands to seek out things she didn't need in the least. She had changed in some essential way, then. Because when she finally awoke to feel her toes moving and to feel light vying against darkness behind her eyelids, her first thought was of Chuck Bass. She had never fancied herself a selfless person, but when it came to Chuck she was a web of sympathies and empathies, reaching out towards him. Even though she felt the fear of death still nibbling at the corners of the room, her first cogent thought was about Chuck. She was relieved that the world didn't have one less person who loved him. And she was full of regret for putting him through this entire – what was the word – ordeal. Because, really, Blair had no idea what it had been like. Blair couldn't conceive of those hours when her life teetered between carrying on and disappearing like breath into the sky on a cold morning. Piecing together what had happened became a sort of mania for her; she made all of her friends tell her about their experiences, and more, to describe to her what it had been like when Chuck had almost collapsed under the pressure of it. It would take a while before Chuck himself was willing to talk about it, and even then he would find her inquiries irritating. "You think people being water-boarded like revisiting the experience?" he joked each time she began her line of questioning. She would roll her eyes and say something sarcastic, but then he would turn his haunted eyes on her and she would know that he was not exaggerating, that he wasn't joking. And she would feel as if she hadn't been there at all, and as if it had been something that Chuck had gone through – a war, a far-off battle while she stayed safely indoors, reading the letters he sent her from the Front.
****
"What do you see when you look at me?" "The most terrifying person I have ever met," he said with a small grin. "Thanks a lot," she huffed. "It's true," he shrugged. "You terrify me." There was a pause. There was a time when Chuck would have been frustrated with himself about giving such an inconsequential answer to her question. But in the quietness that had fallen over them in this forgotten corner of a sterile hospital, Chuck mused that it was the most honest answer he could have given her. She had brought terror to his life; surely there was nothing more powerful than the crushing fear of losing her. He settled his eyes at her, and she stared right back in a way that no one else ever had. Most people avoided looking into his eyes. Perhaps they were intimidated by the dark brown – almost black – of them, or they had simply not bothered to look beyond the smirk. "How do I terrify you?" It was somehow fitting not to have this conversation while curled up in bed together. The promise of play and sensual delight was so far from them; this room was a sort of confessional. Chuck had never had a sense of an exultant higher power until she had crashed into his life. He felt he should have been on his knees before her, despising her and worshipping her – but that was it, wasn't it? She didn't force him to get to his knees. He chose to. "It just terrifies me how far I would go to…keep you. I have been trying to draw a line in the sand, you know? To say 'here is my limit.' But it seems there's no act of abasement I would not perform just to…" "To what?" "To be loved by you," he whispered. It was strange that his dark words and his glittering dark eyes should appear erotic to her, but they did. Here was the proudest man she had ever known telling her that he would perform any act for her. To someone less willing to gaze into the abyss, the promise may have meant less. But this was Chuck Bass. Who even knew what he was capable of? He didn't know himself. She had made a promise, so long ago. The darkest thought he had – she would stand by him through anything. If he were to tumble down into a black depth, she would catapult herself after him. Somersaulting into darkness, with her only concern being whether she could grasp his hand. When had this happened? When in the history of the Non-Judging Breakfast Club had two members become so intrinsically bound? Was there a hint in the way they had been? There had been an underlying attraction, of course, but when had it become such a force? When had it laid waste to everything in its path? They had created it, she realized. It was amazing that something so substantial had been created by two such insubstantial people.
****
There was nothing really to say about that, so Chuck merely shrugged and continued helping Blair with those everyday tasks that had once come so naturally. As Chuck carried her into the bathroom, helping her protect her cast from the bathwater, and kissing her skin as it knitted itself back together, Blair mused that she would never have been able to predict the way her relationship with Chuck would change. They had enjoyed some fairly staggering romantic moments in their time together, and certainly Chuck had the means to offer her the type of romance that many would never experience in their lives. But as he helped her out of her clothes - even helped her shave her one free leg – she realized that the romance she had so carefully constructed during her relationship with Nate was really meaningless. This was love. It was something as simple and vital as the jokes he made to take her mind off her embarrassment. For a moment, she was filled with an insane desperation to keep him close to her always. She sat on the side of the bath and he knelt before her, checking to see that every inch of her cast was covered with a protective layer of plastic. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him and clutched him a desperation that scared her. How was she going to survive without him? How was she going to walk into the gates of Yale and know that she wouldn't see him every day? How could she be without him for a minute? And for an insane moment, she hated him desperately for becoming someone new: for not being that selfish, boorish party animal who would never have considered college as an option. She hated him for learning to stand on his own feet and for discovering a part of himself that craved knowledge. She wished that he could be hers entirely.
****
"What did she say?" Rufus asked, ignoring Dan. Chuck sighed. "She said that she couldn't accept the gift. She said that it was too much. She said I should keep it for myself…and that she could visit it or some crap. Then she said that maybe in the future…something…" "And why do you think she said that?" "Because she's a satanic bitch sent from Hades to torture me?" Chuck suggested idly. "Good answer," Dan observed with a grin. *пардон... но меня улыбнуло *
****
"Chuck," she whispered uncertainly. "Are you really here?" It was as if her words had been a starting gun; the moment she opened her mouth, he stepped across the threshold and pulled her into his arms. And the moment he touched her, any thought that she had, any question she wanted to ask him – everything was drowned out by the hammering of her heart and the feeling of pressing herself against him. She noticed without any interest that he had let a beautiful bouquet of flowers fall to the ground. All she cared about was pulling off the obtrusive overcoat so that she could get closer-closer-closer to him. She had forgotten what it was like to hold him, to smell his hair and the scent of his aftershave, which always evoked something old, with just a hint of danger. She had forgotten the way his expensive shirts felt under her hands when she wrapped her arms around him – from that first night he had come to her room coming apart at the seams and she had held on to him for no other reason than if he disappeared she wouldn't have been able to withstand it. It was a moment of double vision. For a moment, he was two people. There was the almost-grown Chuck that stood before her, who had learnt how to stand up and whose eyes were creased with worry. But there was also the young boy with the cultivated messy hair and a cravat, who thought that buying jewellery was the way to win a woman's heart. He had come to her in the bedroom on her seventeenth birthday, with the gift hidden behind his back. It had seemed like an engineered moment; one that he had planned in order to gain the most effective dramatic timing. But when he had sat down next to her, fastening the clasp of the necklace, Blair had felt the slight tremble of his hands and had been able to hear the quickening beat of his heart. Although she had mistreated him terribly – had rebuked his every advance, had been content to keep him as a guilty and embarrassing secret – she now felt nothing but tearful affection for him, filled with regret that she had given him a moment of pain, whether deserved or undeserved. As in all things, they were perfectly mirrored; as Blair saw two Chucks unfolding before her, she also saw the two Blairs who played opposite him. There was the Blair she had once been: proud and insecure, neglected, but with a secret sense that there was some invisible thing that was precious about her that no one ever saw. That was the Blair who had been at once terrified about what Chuck thought of her after their first night together in the limo, but that had also been the Blair who thought of him as somehow beneath her, the Blair who had done nothing to convince him that love was more than an expensive necklace around the neck. She had been so convinced that with enough force – of character, of will – life could be pressed and manipulated into a particular shape. That had been the Blair who had dreamed of Yale, as the very model of selectivity and elitism. And that was the Blair who had been destroyed the moment that Chuck had told her that he loved her, although really she had begun coming apart long before that. Because the moment that they had given in to their feelings for each other, they had also given up something. Chuck had given up his escape routes; Blair had given up her control. Breathing in the scent of him, after all these months, Blair found that she couldn't force herself to let go of him, couldn't pretend that everything was all right. Could do nothing but grip his arms in a way that must have been painful and hope to high heaven that he would never let go of her. But, of course, after some time passed in this silent embrace, he pulled away to look at her face. It was unfair, really, to insist on seeing her clearly in that moment. She was unprepared; she was vulnerable after the overwhelming experience of having him there, that moment, in her arms. She didn't have time to put her mask in place. And so when he looked at her – one of those searing, deep looks that terrified her – she knew that her eyes must have been desperate and seemed to big for her face.
**** “Everywhere Chuck looked there was another example of the fragility of the human body. It had been short-sighted of him not to consider that the same soft flesh that enticed him every day could so easily be damaged by the outside world. Perhaps, before he had surrendered himself to these feelings for Blair, he should have insisted that she had been coated in armour. He should have thought of this possibility; that she was too fragile to love. It would take nothing more than a motorcar to pull her away from him.
That was the terrifying thing about loving someone, Chuck realized with dawning horror, pulling his clammy hand from under Serena’s. From the moment that you allowed yourself to feel these feelings, you began the countdown to the day when the loved one would no longer be around. In loving Blair, Chuck had opened himself to a new type of suffering.”
Rated: T; Romance/Friendship; Chuck & Blair Summary: After 2.05. When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her. Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4570800/1/Dear_Life_I_Hate_Chuck_Bass
Quotes
"Nate said you called him," he said, and I could instantly tell he was not happy. He was… jealous. This perked me up a bit. "I did." His eyes narrowed. "You did." "Yes. I missed hearing his voice," I stabbed, and I could see it physically hurt him. Good. Let him leave. Let him give up on me, then Nate wouldn't feel so guilty and I could work on my plan to get him back. His nostrils flared. "Threw yourself at him, did you?" I held my chin high. There was no need to confess anything. He nodded slowly. "Let me give you a hint." He whispered, low and wispy. I swallowed. "The reason he took you back. The reason he wanted you was because you looked… happier. Free and so 'Un-Blair-Like'." I reeled back. "And you know why I know?" He came closer, and I could smell his cologne. "Because he didn't know about us. So he confided in his best friend." I felt tears probing at my eyes. "And you know who brought out that shiny, happy Blair? Me." He pointed at himself.
****
My mother thought it wise to get me a shrink. What? You want to hear about my 'date' with Chuck Bass? Well, you'll have to wait. It's my story, and I'm telling it. No journal will glare at me, no matter how pretty the cover is. Her name is Magnolia Fiore. Dr. Magnolia Fiore. Honestly, who names their child Magnolia? And expects her not to grow up with issues. No wonder she's a shrink.
**** I'm pretty sure it's extremely dangerous to be around him now. He's like this octopus with too many hands and poisonous words.
****
Oh, dear God, can this man kiss. This man was born to kiss. I felt my entire body flush alive as his tongue practically made me pass out. His arm around my waist was the only thing holding me up, and I was pretty sure he was poison because this strange sensation was running up my legs and I was completely lost in this moment. I didn't want the moment to end. Why haven't I been kissed like this before over and over? My hands were tangled in his hair and I was pulling at him like a lifeline, begging for life, for love, begging for him. I couldn't remember my name, why I was there – who the hell he was – because all I could think was, "Thank you, Life, for making me a woman." For making me this woman and for letting me be here, at this moment, being kissed like this. I had a momentary thought, through the haze of my Hollywood kiss, that we were passionately in love and had been separated for months, and he had found me and we would be together forever. Where's the rain?
****
"Blair, sit – calm down." Serena went over to me. "I don't understand. You don't understand!" I was hyperventilating. "B-" "I wake and I think of him, I go to sleeping thinking of him, I shower, I think of him –" I told her. "He's everywhere! It's Chuckalandia!" She was clearly laughing now. I'm sure it was payback for my reaction to the 'Dan Humphrey from Brooklyn' story she had shared with me a few days earlier. Clearly this was punishment. "And I'm stuck in it. It's a revolving dream. I keep having the same vision over and over and over," I told her. "Does it include kissing?" She smirked. "Kissing? I've been kissed before. I've kissed before. That was not a kiss!" She was entirely too delighted with this situation. "Must have been some kiss." "Are you not listening to me? It was sex!" I was panting. Serena's brows rose. "I had oral sex, but not in the normal oral sex way, in front of a church!" I sat next to her. "I'm still shaking, look at me – look at my hair, something is off." She patted my head. "Oh, B."
****
"What are you doing?" I hissed when I had a moment with him alone. He smirked. "What do you mean?" "You know what I mean!" I snapped. "I like your mom," he said calmly, and he looked sincere enough, but I know Chuck Bass better. "Since when?" I asked. To be honest, I never really noticed who he liked and who he didn't. "Since the dream," His eyes got misty, and I was even more suspicious. My eyes narrowed as I study him and his utopian look. "What dream?" My voice was low as I observed my mother give instructions to Dorota out of the corner of my eye. "Anne, Lily and Eleanor. All together." I stared at him and blinked. Oh, shit, no. Dear life, Chuck Bass is a pervert, and he's never touching me again.
****
I spotted Serena, who was in the middle of a constipated conversation with someone I could only presume to be this 'Dan Humphrey'. He spotted me and sighed, wanting to get away. Good. He knows not to mess with me. "Waldorf," he greeted. I looked him up and down. "Person," I responded. "Blair." Serena stated, giving me a look that only meant 'be nice'. "This is Dan Humphrey. Dan – Blair." I nodded, but he was obviously out of the loop. Because he was looking like a little boy lost in the storm as his mouth opened and closed. "I have memory loss and, thank goodness, I don't remember you." I explained, looking at his LL Bean pants. I didn't know you could still purchase those.
****
The 59 minutes I spent behind bars served as a time to get angry. To boil all that anger and repressed emotions at myself and at the world and just stew with it. I'm so angry at him, at me, at the Amazonian on his bed, at the world. I just wish everything would explode. I can't think of enough bad things to call him. I got a bit creative, so I began to experiment with his name. Mother-Chucker (hehe) Basshole (love it!) At the same time, I avoided the hairy large woman next to me. She kept eyeing me, but I just glared ahead. I'm not going to lie, I got very inventive during those 59 minutes. Ways to kill Chuck Bass: Run him over with his limo Tie a permanent cock-ring on him Strangle him with his scarf I kept going. It made the time go faster, dreaming of his face filled with pain as these things happened. "Was it because of a man?" The hairy woman asked. I stiffened. Why was she talking to me? Why couldn't I have gotten a private cell? I heard about solitary confinement being a bad thing – that would so not be a bad thing. I ignored her. I pretended to be French. "Or a woman?" She was sneering. Ugh, dear God, I HATE Chuck Bass.
****
I followed his line of vision and spotted Nate, laughing at some joke Dan had made. I studied Nate for a moment. I thought back on our relationship. I honestly believe I haven't had as much fun with Nate in all the years we were together as I've had with Chuck in the time I've been with him. He made me feel light and beautiful and free and cherished, and I decided that I loved myself at the moment. Dear life, I love myself. I love me. I love how I laugh, how I'm free, how I flirt, how I bitch, how I seduce. I turned and stared at the man next to me, who was looking at me curiously. He made that happen. I realized at that very moment that since the moment he kissed me all those weeks ago in the hospital and told me he loved me, I've been unable to think of anyone else other than him. His eyes, his mouth, his smirk, the way his eyes turn a warm honey brown when he stares at me with admiration and encouragement. I thought back to the day he took me on our first 'date', when he ordered for me even though I refused, the confession in the limo, the way he took me back to the beginning when everyone was unwilling to do so, the way he held me after he found out I hated my body, his jokes in the church, the way he made love to me—in an elevator out of all places! The way he graced my mother with compliments, the way he sits, the way he laughs, the way he can make me laugh and smile, the way he brings out the best and the worst in me.
Rated: M; Romance/Drama; Chuck & Blair Summary: AU story surrounding Chuck/Blair and the other UESers and even a few non UESers . Chuck and Blair, and their never ending story of passion and the pain that comes with it. Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5357054/1/ Статус: в процессе
Quotes
"Oh, for God's sake, Serena," Blair was getting irritated, "can you please just say his name." "It might conjure the devil," Serena mumbled under her breath, and Blair couldn't stop herself from laughing. Serena laughed then too, and a few people turned in their direction. One of those people was Chuck Bass, and for a minute Blair's gaze collided with his. It felt like all the air got sucked out of the room, and then whooshed back in at the same time, nearly socking Blair in the chest. She'd heard you could faint from shock, but she'd never imagined you could pass out from someone looking at you. He had the darkest brown eyes though, nearly black pools actually, and she could feel herself being sucked in deep. They were bottomless, and the look in them terrified her.
****
He didn't move over to accommodate her, so when she sat their thighs were pressed up against each other, and her dress spilled over his pants leg. Black on black. It should have looked funny, but it didn't. Instead, it looked right, and that thought made a warm heat spread down Blair's neck.
****
Her seventeenth birthday ended with a kiss on the forehead from Nate Archibald, and one on the lips from Serena van der Woodsen. But years later, when she was old and gray, and thought about this night, she knew she wouldn't remember that. She would remember an antique arm chair, Scotch, black socks, lavender toes, and plush carpeting. She would remember his lips, and his hair, and the way her dress looked spread across his legs. She would remember it all, just like she knew she'd remember every moment she ever got to spend with him.
****
"And he warned me about you, so I guess you're even." Blair shot back, the alcohol making her bolder than usual. Or perhaps she was finally just speaking her mind with him. Either way it felt a lot better than tip toeing around him, and his bipolar moods. "Did he?" Chuck was getting annoyed, and Blair couldn't stop herself from pushing him further. Any reaction from him was better than the no reaction she'd been getting since they arrived in Barcelona. Her trip had already veered way off course. She'd spent the evening watching him hook up with girls that weren't her. "He did. And so did Serena, and my mother and my father. They all say you're bad news." Blair slipped off her heels, and picked them up so she was carrying them. The concrete scraped against her toes, and she tried to keep herself upright. When she looked up again Chuck was right in front of her, and that same stormy look from that morning was in his eyes. He kept walking closer to her, forcing her to back up against the brick building behind her. When her back hit, he finally stopped. His gaze never left hers though, and she glanced away from him. He was angry, there was no missing that. "Do you believe them?" He asked, his voice rough. It washed over her, and she did her best not to look at him again. She was afraid of what she would find. "Blair?" Her name was a command, and he gripped her chin, pulling her face back around so she couldn't look anywhere else but at him. "Do you think I'm bad news?" She sucked in a deep breath. "Absolutely." She answered with conviction, and the air swooshed out of both of them for a moment. For once she could read every emotion on his face. He was surprised, angry, impressed… it was all right there, and she felt elated. She'd made a crack in that big wall he always greeted the world with. Finally, he composed himself, and moved back from her. She felt a chill come over her when the warmth of his body was gone, but she didn't move. He ran a hand through his hair, and pulled a flask out of his pocket. He uncapped it, and swigged some back, before turning to face her again. "Smart girl."
****
"Go back to sleep," he mumbled against her neck. "I promise not to ravish you tonight." He added, and she could almost feel him smirking against her neck. *вторая часть фразы улыбнула *
****
"You're beautiful." She could tell he meant it, but she was still afraid to look at him, so they both just stayed facing forward. "I like you. I enjoy your company." It sounded like he was pulling teeth, but he didn't stop, and Blair was glad. She needed to hear this. "I don't want to see you with Carter, either. He'll hurt you. He hurts everyone… so do I. It's the way we were made."
****
He leaned in so his lips were hovering right above her ear, and his cheek was pressed into her messy hair. "You're a tease." His voice was rough, and she knew that if she just turned around a little bit, he would take care of the rest. But she liked the fragile friendship that was building between them, and kissing him would do nothing to help it.
****
"I know better," Serena promised. "You're clearly on Chuck's top ten list of things he'd like to eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner." Serena wiggled her eyebrows at Blair and both girls had to laugh at that. :D :D :D
****
She had him.
****
For so long she'd fantasized about being with Chuck. What it would mean. When it would happen. How it would feel. This was nothing like any of her fantasies. He was so real, so solid in her arms, and she just wanted to hold him close to her forever. It didn't feel like she was losing anything to him in that moment, but rather she was gaining something. She felt free. She felt wild. She felt loved.
****
He's a black hole.
****
Chuck shook his head. "Yes, I did. I couldn't be around you. I couldn't… I woke up that morning, and you were lying beside me, and for a minute… I was happy." The admission seemed to shock him as much as it did her. "I didn't know what to do with it, Blair. I ran. I fucked up. I get that." She nodded. Unbidden tears sprung up behind her eyes, and she quickly looked down so he wouldn't see them. "You'll do it again," she whispered. When she looked up again, she saw the truly horrified expression on his face. "You know I'm right." He said nothing. He couldn't deny it. "I woke up happy, too." She let a small smile creep across her lips, but it vanished just as quickly as she remembered the rest of that morning. "And then I found out you were gone, and I was… I was hurt. I was angry. I felt like a whore - like your whore." She shook her head. "I will never do that to myself again." She needed him to understand her. "You're not a whore." He could barely get the word out, and she appreciated that the idea so repulsed him. "It was different with us. You have to know that." "All I know is that I woke up alone. You left." She repeated.
****
"When you told my mother that I was loved… What did you mean?" Blair knew what it cost him to ask her that, and she was startled that he'd even done it. Blair didn't even know that Chuck had been listening to her conversation with his mother at that point. "Just that people love you, Chuck." Blair was growing uncomfortable. She knew what he wanted, but she couldn't give it to him. It would hurt too much when he didn't say it back. "Who?" He whispered, unrelenting. Blair closed her eyes and said nothing. "Blair…" It was a plea. She just didn't know what he wanted. "No one's ever stood up to my mother for me before. My father yells at her all the time, but it's not… not for me." Blair turned back to him as his voice cracked, and she was startled to find him looking right at her. He was pure raw emotion. "Thank you." There was so much reverence in how he said it, and how he looked at her, that she felt the emotion choking her as well as him.
****
"I can't believe you brought her," she snapped. She swallowed back the entire contents of her glass and held it out for him to refill. He did so without a word. "Georgina?" She pushed. "Why not Georgina?" He finally lost his cool. "You brought him." His voice lowered in disgust as he nodded his head towards Marcus. "What is he? Your fucking prince?" He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. He took a shaky drag and refused to meet Blair's gaze. "He's a Lord," she corrected him needlessly. They were devolving into petty, but she couldn't stop herself. She was furious and insulted. "I didn't bring him to hurt you. Can you say the same? You know I hate her." Blair gritted her teeth and kept her voice at a low whisper. No one else should hear this foolishness. "I enjoy her," he smirked, clearly taking pleasure from her frown. "In fact, maybe I'll go find her now." Chuck turned to walk away, but Blair reached out and gripped his arm hard. He couldn't move, and finally turned back to speak to her again. He'd played that perfectly, and he knew it. "You brought her to hurt me," Blair accused him again. She hated the victorious smile that slid across his lips. "What?" Her voice was getting shrill. She glanced back towards Marcus again and relaxed when she saw that both Eric and Nate were still talking to him. Nate would eat up at least another five minutes. "Why would I think bringing Georgina would hurt you, Blair? Why would it?" He taunted. He moved in closer to her and slid his hand across the bar so it was resting on top of hers. He pushed her palm at an angle, and laced his fingers through hers. It was such an intimate gesture that she felt it all the way down to her toes. She tried to yank her hand back, but he held tight, and she finally gave in. She wanted to hold his hand, and he knew it. "I don't want to play games," she whispered softly, sipping at her drink. She was terrified that someone would look over at them and spot their linked hands. All she needed was Marcus or even worse, Dan Humphrey, to see this and draw conclusions. The conclusions would most likely have been accurate, and that was what worried her. "Isn't this a game? You brought him to make me jealous. Don't lie to me." Chuck stared straight into her eyes and dared her to deny it. He wasn't entirely right, but there was enough truth there to make her shake her head. He could think what he wanted. He stepped in closer, and she felt his warm breath brush across her face. He smelled like whisky and pot. She just wanted to get closer. "Why are you doing this to me?" She looked away from him and tried to ignore his nearness. No one was looking in their direction, but it was only a matter of time. "What am I doing?" He whispered. He was so close then that there were only inches between them. Blair still didn't look at him. She couldn't. As good as it felt to be near him like this, she knew she was losing. He must have sensed that, because his voice got softer, warmer. "I don't like him. I don't like that you're here with him…" Blair still didn't look up. It wasn't enough. "I'm jealous." It was so soft she barely heard him, but her face snapped up the second she did. He glanced down bashfully. "Maybe part of me wanted you to be," Blair admitted, because she could afford to then. Their eyes finally met in the middle, and Blair's body went entirely still. She was so close to him, but she wanted to be closer. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to be with him. She wanted everything she'd forced herself to stop dreaming about, and for a moment she thought maybe she saw the same yearning in him. He leaned his head in towards her, and for a brief second his forehead rested against her own. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. Her feverish mind was already plotting ways to be alone with him. Someone cleared her throat beside them, and Blair immediately jerked back.
****
"Yes, you do. You know what I'm asking you." He closed his eyes, but she pushed on. "You're right. I don't want Marcus. He doesn't know me, and I don't even want him to. I want you to know me. I want you to love me." She was full on messy crying at that point, and she was beyond caring. If she was going to hand him her pride, she might as well do it in a spectacular fashion. "And I deserve it, damnit."
****
"You flew commercial?" She blurted it out without thinking, but that was the one thing that was sticking in her head when nothing else made any kind of sense.
**** "It hurts," she cried as she clutched at him. He leaned in, kissing her damp forehead, and wiped at her messy face. "You'll get through this. I'm here. I promise I'm here for you. Whatever you need," he said this all piece-meal throughout her sobs. "Whatever you need," he repeated.
****
His cool façade finally broke, and he jumped off the bed. He faced off with her then, and she saw pure anger in his expression. His voice was practically shaking when he spoke. "Would I be here right now if I didn't give a damn about you? I left my entire fucking life behind to be here. For you," he emphasized, and she flinched. "I get that your life sucks right now, and God knows I am sorry for that. I truly am. And I'm trying to help you and be there, but you're asking me to ignore this – to ignore what you're doing to yourself. I can't. I can't do that, Blair." He shook his head, and swiped a tired hand over his face. She'd truly worn him down.
****
"I love you," he whispered as he stared down at their entwined hands. She could no longer hold the tears back, and they began cascading down her face. Her chest felt like it was caving in, and for the life of her she could not let go of his hand. He didn't let go either. They stood frozen there in a moment that both shocked and terrified her. She'd never expected his love.
****
"This," Chuck motioned around him just as Carter had, "is still all mine. She's mine, too. It must kill you that I have everything, and you still have nothing. Still second best. Second place. Still," Chuck emphasized and stepped in closer to Carter, "not good enough."
**** “In those dark hours, Blair realized it was futile to attempt to stop loving Chuck. He was a part of her now. His pain felt like her own, and she knew she’d do nearly anything to help him through this. She refused to believe there wasn’t a way out of this hell; a place he could escape to. One day she’d be there with him when he made it. She didn’t fool herself into believing that there was a happily ever after in their future. She’d meant what she’d said to him. Romance was not in the cards. He was too broken, and she was too afraid. She’s stand by him, though. She’d hold him up when he fell down, and she’d fight for him. No matter what, she promised herself, she would fight.”
Rated: T; Angst/Family; Blair & Chuck Summary: A journey begins when Chuck sets out to find Blair after a tragedy. He brings his inquisitive five year old daughter with him. This is the story told by her. Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5744753/1/The_Little_Princess
Quotes
His forehead is pressed to side of the elevator as it ascends to the very top of the world, to the very top of the world he created for them. The one they created. A place high above the clouds where they thought nothing could touch them. Yet here he was… a broken man. He counts silently as he ascends. He counts the minutes of his life. He counts as his life is drained from him. He thinks he finally understands how his father felt all those years. He's got to face the most innocent thing in the world and assure her that the way she looks doesn't affect him. That her large brown eyes, inherited from her mother, don't cut right through him. In the past, he had love the resemblance, priding himself in her beauty. Now he cursed it. They were cursed dark creatures who had no right bringing innocent things into this world. They had brought all that darkness upon themselves. They deserved this. They deserved it all. 98… 103… 134… 154… The seconds of his life; the moments that passed him by. The once comforting 'bing' of the elevator where he would rush home, happy and elated to finally be in his own little sanctuary with his tiny little family waiting for him is now tainted. No clicking of her heels… No perfume lingering in the air. No warm smile to greet him or narrowed eyes to pick a fight. This was worse than anything. This was what his father felt every day. No wonder his old man hated him. Despised him. No wonder… He became afraid that his heart would harden, turn into stone before he could blink his eyes again… Before he could backpedal his emotions… Before… And then his salvation came in distant words, distant sounds… "Daddy!"
**** "Then why are you leaving me, Daddy?" Ilsa demanded, her face twisted as she glared at him, touching his face. "Why, Daddy?" "I'm not leaving forever, baby. Just for a little while, just to go get mommy," he explained quietly, but his voice felt like it belonged to a stranger. Serena sobbed even more, making more noise than Ilsa. "Mommy said…" Ilsa was now hiccupping. "M-mommy said that forever is for however long the heart thinks it to be." Charles Bass looked into the eyes of his child, and she knew that she had won. His own daughter, his flesh and blood had beat him at all his games. She had used her most powerful weapon. His love for Blair. "Let's get you packed."
****
"Daddy, he smells like Brooklyn," she whispered to her father. And though Ilsa couldn't see it at the moment, it was the first time a miniscule smile tugged at her father's lips. "Mommy said that people that smell like Brooklyn can't be trusted." She eyed the man who followed them up the plane stairs, never taking his eyes off her.
только из-за этой фразы, этим ребенком можно только восхищаться
****
"Are they new money, daddy?" Ilsa whispered to her father, who for the first time turned to really look at her. It was then that she noticed he hardly looked at her, always talked to her from the side. Always avoiding her eyes and her gaze. "Yes, Ilsa. They are," he confirmed. Ilsa pursed her lips. Weren't the Humphreys also new money, and she had been firmly told to avoid them? "Mommy said –" "Be quiet," her father said as the butler came back into the room with an air about him.
****
"How was the duck?" Her father asked when she finally dabbed her napkin over her lips. He himself hardly ate, which worried her a bit since her father loved duck nearly as much as she did. He seemed satisfied with pushing around the food in his plate and drinking more dirty water. Mommy wouldn't let him get away with that. "A bit dry but perfect on the salt," she decided. Another ghost of a smile appeared on her father's hard face. "You should be a food critic," he murmured, and her mouth twisted. "Like Mr. Humphrey?" Her father cringed. "Fair terms, forget the sad life of a food journalist." "And he's fat, Daddy," she pointed out, nodding her head. "Who told you that?" Her father chuckled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I assessed it myself during Thanksgiving this year," she explained to him. "He was standing next to Jenny, and in comparative terms, he was fat." "Next to Jenny Humphrey, even Twiggy would be fat, Ilsa," he full out laughed, and Ilsa beamed at him, pleased that she was able to amuse him so. Prince Albert sat on his seat, propped with her small luggage and ignoring his food. She sent him a warming look.
****
She paused before the room she saw before her. It was neat, large and elegant. Just like her mother has always kept their home. And then something happened that made Ilsa nearly burst inside. She smelled her mother's perfume. "Mommy!" She ran inside, but it was still empty. Empty and alone, just like Ilsa felt. Yet she was surrounded by her mother's essence. She ran through the room and finally ended up in a doorway to the bedroom. Before she could enter, her father rushed beside her, not even seeing her. "Blair!" He cried, and Ilsa felt so sad. Couldn't her father see her mother was not there? Her mother had left already. Her mother was gone. It was as if Ilsa's thoughts went to her father, and he collapsed on the still-unmade bed. Ilsa watched with wide eyes as her father grabbed the pillow, which had presumably been used that night by her mother, and pressed it firmly against his nose. He inhaled her mother's scent and then yanked the sheets out of the bed, wrapping himself in them, until he too was covered with her mother's essence. He lay on the bed, still and unmoving, staring out towards the window. Staring into nothingness. Ilsa set Prince Albert down on the floor and slowly walked to her father, her little heart hammering in her chest. She walked until she faced him, and saw that his face was now marred with tears. She had never seen her father cry. Thinking back, he had never cried when her mother had been in the hospital; he had never cried when they didn't get the baby brother. He had simply never cried. Didn't mommy say that sometimes you needed a good cry? Ilsa, understanding that her father's sadness had consumed him, leaned forward and pecked his cheek, her little hands caressing his face. "Don't worry, Daddy. We'll find Mommy," she whispered. "We'll find her, she'll be found when you least expect it." His face remained emotionless as the tears continued to pour, so she kept kissing his face, combing back his hair and laying her cheek against his. He finally blinked, as if realizing she was there and pulled her to him, spooning her onto him and burying his nose into her hair. "Mommy says that sometimes you need a good cry," she told him softly. "Your mother is always right," he replied quietly after a long, long, long while.
Rated: T; Chuck & Blair Summary: Chuck and Blair AU universe future tense. Nate, Serena, Georgina and Carter all make appearances. NS and CB couple focus Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5799814/1/You_Were_Mine Статус: в процессе
Quotes
She'd loved one boy, married him, had his child, betrayed him and now she was here to make him pay.
****
"Meet me in the lobby… now." He hung up before she could even respond but she'd know that voice anywhere. Her heart started hammering in her chest and she just sat there stunned for a moment. She had hoped his curiosity about her being here would get to him eventually but she never dreamed it would be this fast. She stood up slowly and looked around for her shoes. She grabbed them and did her best to get them on quickly. Her hands were shaking though so it was a feat by the time she was done. She checked her hair and make up next to make sure they were beyond reproach. She had to look like an upstanding citizen or she'd never have a chance with him. She knew he'd just be looking for something to pick apart on her. She arrived down in the lobby exactly three minutes later and looked around for him. She didn't spot him at first and her stomach dropped. She feared he'd changed his mind and there was no way she could chase him home. His guards probably had pictures of her tattooed on them with the strict instruction to keep her far, far away. She was just about to give up when she spotted him sitting down at the bar. He looked tense and uncomfortable but he was there. She took that as a good sign and walked right over to him.
****
Since Blair had last seen him he'd grown into a very powerful man. He'd always been feared as Bart Bass's son, but now he was feared and respected simply for being Chuck Bass. This had always been their dream to sit on top of Manhattan's elite… she had to look away from him for a minute to collect herself. He could make of that what he would. She couldn't admit that he'd gotten her so nervous she'd barely been able to remember to push the lobby button in the elevator. Seeing him was always a shock to her system. While she was away she forgot certain things about him, perhaps purposefully so. His hair always seemed much darker in person than in her memory and his eyes… his eyes told stories she wished she could forget.
****
"Please, Daddy?" Parker climbed into his lap and grabbed Chuck by the cheeks so he had to look Parker right in the eyes. Those damn eyes got Chuck every single time. "Chuck," Blair seemed a little panicked. "He's not totally insane," Serena interjected. "Don't worry." "No monkeys," Chuck told his son sternly. Parker's lip began to pout out and he whimpered softly, but Chuck's expression never changed. "You can visit them at the zoo. Final offer." Chuck gave him an all business look, and Parker scrunched up his little face in anger. "Fine," he deflated quickly. He climbed off of Chuck and hopped back onto Blair, shocking her for a moment. He just laughed at the funny expression on her face and patted her lips. "You have a funny face," he told her seriously. "Funny bad?" Blair smiled down at him. "Funny like a mommy," he returned with a shy smile. Blair smiled back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chuck watching them. She wondered what he thought. If he was jealous or if he hated her for this, or if he felt even a little bit bad that he'd taken this from both her and Parker. She would never know though, because he would surely never tell her. "You look funny like a kid," she returned. She leaned down popping a quick kiss on his forehead. "Daddy?" Parker turned back to Chuck, and Blair felt the loss of her moment. "Can Mommy come with us to the zoo? I want to show her the butt monkeys. Please. Pretty please." Parker began begging before Chuck could even get a word out. He climbed back to Chuck and grabbed his face again. Blair realized he did this when he wanted Chuck's full attention and smiled to herself. Never in her life did she think Chuck would let anyone do that to him. He didn't even blink when their son did it, though.
****
"We'll see." He turned around and headed towards the door. She just stood there. It hadn't gone well, but it hadn't been awful. He turned back at the last minute and came right up to her. There was something fierce and protective burning in his eyes. "You do whatever you want to me, Blair. I can handle it. You come at me with BE, with Carter – Hell, you can even use my own mother against me, and I can handle it." Blair didn't miss the bitter edge in his voice. Lily had been a low blow. "Never use Parker. Never put him in the middle." Blair nodded. "I wouldn't." She should have left it at that, but she didn't. "Can you say the same, Chuck?" He opened his mouth to snap at her, most likely rip her head off but she barreled on. "Do you honestly think he can't see the way you feel about me? You can barely stand to be in the same room with me. Your voice gets hard and your eyes get cold – Do you think he understands that? Do you really think it doesn't hurt him?" Blair expected him to flip out. She expected him to deny it all, but instead all she was greeted with was silence. Finally, after the moments ticked by so slowly Blair could barely breathe, he spoke. "No matter what I feel for you, Blair, Parker comes first. I've failed at many things in life, but I've never failed him and I never will. I agreed to you coming tomorrow because he wants you there. I'd do anything for my son." It was solemn vow, and Blair understood it. She felt the same.
****
"I'm a Bass. Do you know what that means?" Parker ignored his father's interruption and continued his conversation with Blair. Blair smiled and feigned ignorance. "What does that mean?" "I'm rich and handsome and Grandpa Bart said being a Bass meant I could have anything I ever wanted, but I don't think he was telling me the truth. I want a monkey, but daddy won't get one…" Parker glanced back at his father and climbed the final inches until he was sitting on Blair's lap. He leaned up, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes and pushed her hair back so he could whisper in her ear. "Do you like monkeys?" Blair nearly laughed out loud. "Um, well…" She glanced towards Chuck for help. She didn't want to let Parker down but there was no way in Hell she was purchasing a monkey. "I don't think…" Chuck mercifully jumped in and saved her. "No monkeys. Keep pushing it and I'm sending the pony back." Chuck gave Parker a stern look and Parker pouted in return. When the pout didn't have its desired effect, a slow tear began to trace down his cheek. "Faker." Chuck grinned at him.
****
"I don't know. Hating Chuck has always been easy. He made it easy. But now…" Blair had to look away. "It's not so easy. I look at him with our child…" She couldn't stop the tears from falling then. "He's a good father. He took care of Parker when I couldn't. He loves him the way I always wanted my child to be loved – how I always wanted to be loved."
****
Daddy says I can see you whenever I want. Blair nearly started jumping on the bed. She was getting her family back.
Rated: T; Mystery/Romance; Chuck & Blair Summary: Chuck and Blair. Together, they ruled the Upper East Side. Bass and Waldorf. One lives in exile, the other mourns the life they used to have. What changed? Elle Waldorf wants to know. Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4816788/1/Between_the_Shadow_and_the_Soul
Quotes
I'm Blair Cornelia Waldorf. I'm almost 21, almost able to drink legally even though I've done it illegally since I was 13. I have impeccable fashion sense, a bulldog named Handsome (Dan), a maid named Dorota, a best friend named Serena, and an absentee mother who married a nosy Jewish stepfather. I was born in Manhattan and I'll probably die in Manhattan. I will be wearing very expensive shoes when I go. I might live in France with daddy and Roman (the gay man daddy left my mom for when I was a sophomore in high school), or I might go to Tuscany – ALONE – to see its sights and maybe get really drunk on vino in a romantic villa on a lonely hilltop. I like old Hollywood because it was glamorous, I love black and white movies because if life were a black and white movie the lighting would be much more flattering, and I love shoes. And diamonds. And clothes. And Audrey Hepburn. I hate poly-blend, trashy celebrity wannabes, secrets, and most of all: Chuck Bass. He is without a doubt the most heartless son-of-a-Bass evil Basshole Basstard mother Chucking SPAWN OF SATAN hell ever spat forth. I do not hesitate to say that I would love – no, not love, because that word should stay away from him at all costs lest it DIE a horrible screaming tortured death – I would REVEL in seeing him go back to hell and burn there for eternity. After the devil cut his stupid penis off and dangled it in front of him tauntingly before throwing it into the lake of fire or whatever awful thing you throw things into in hell. Then it would grow back and the devil would cut it off AGAIN, lather, rinse, repeat. In fact, can I be the devil? I can't imagine how the gig could be that bad if I could do that all day and watch the agony on his face every single time. In fact, it would never get old. I would never even get a minion to do it for me. I would do it every time, laugh in his face, maybe kick him or step on his feet. Or mess up his bow tie. Then BAM THE PENIS GOES IN THE LAKE OF FIRE. *последние абзацы *
****
I wish Chuck would come back so there would be someone in this godforsaken smelly place to comfort me and bring Handsome to visit because I know he's going crazy all cooped up in the penthouse. Maybe mom will design me a hospital gown made of silk charmeuse so I can get out of this straightjacket. What is it made of, cotton and plastic and polyblend? It's evil and it must die. Please?.....Who knows whose blood I've got in me...some hobo who needed a buck for the liquor store, probably. That would be my luck, to almost die and then mutate into a hobo. Next thing I'll be buying a brownstone in the Village, dying my hair black, and turning into one of those weird super vegans who don't eat anything with a shadow. Okay, diary, nice try. I'm calling a nurse, getting some medicine, and sleeping for fourteen hours. Chuck will be here when I wake up and everything will be fine.
****
Okay, I know what I was thinking because I thought it out very well, but I didn't know then how lonely this seat would be. I don't know where I am in this world anymore, what I'm supposed to do now that I can never have another little wriggling baby again, or where I belong once I accept that. That's why I'm going to the chateau alone, to figure everything out. It's the smart decision, even he thought so. He. Chuck. I told myself I could never hear or think that name again, but I didn't say I couldn't write it. Chuck Chuck Chuck Chuck. I've never hated him and loved him so much in all my life, not even when he got me pregnant and I wanted to castrate him and become the devil in his personal hell. Oh god, that got me smiling. I would give anything to be able to say that again. I miss that version of me. He misses her too. I miss who he used to be. That's why we can't be together anymore. I'm forever in love with the boy leaning against his limo like a scene right out of my every black and white fantasy, forever in love with presents and those three words over and over again between sweet upturned kisses. And he's in love with a girl in red lipstick, on a stage that doesn't exist anymore, wearing a slip she tossed out years ago. But those people aren't alive anymore. Too many things have happened to them and broken them down into entirely new people who look at each other and don't see anything in each other's eyes that could possibly See? I'm overly sentimental and scarily poetic and it needs to stop. I'm writing this to say goodbye to all of those things, because I can't be that girl anymore. I can feel the fear tingling in my spine and I'm going to stop writing about it and just stare out the window and pretend the puffy clouds are a cotton candy fairy kingdom. For the last time.
****
"You think that my mom is your real mom, and your fake mom is just pretending to be your real mom to keep some kind of huge secret from you. You found a diary and this picture," he waved my precious treasure around like a limp handkerchief, "and it lead you on this ten year quest to find "the truth" and that's why we're going to Uncle Eric's house at almost midnight on a Monday evening. So I can help you find out whether my dad is your dad and my mom is your real mom, and why your "fake" mom is pretending to be your "real" mom to keep some kind of huge secret from you. Is that the basic gist?"
****
He pressed his thumb to the end button when one breathless whisper stopped him. "Chuck." Chuck Bass had not heard that voice in almost seventeen years, but there was no mistaking it. It was every bit as fragile as it had been the last time she had spoken to him, but there was deepness in its tone, a maturity that no doubt reflected in his own voice in ways even he could not hear. He had heard her breathe that name in all sorts of ways at all sorts of volumes; anger, irritation, desire, lust, love, admiration, hatred, loud, soft, raspy, deep, soft, light, cheerful, depressed, longing... the full gamut of emotions had been expressed to him through just that one syllable from between her full lips, which he imagined were parted in anticipation of his response. "...Blair?" "It's Blair," she confirmed, but he already knew. Of course it was Blair. No one else could make him feel so insipidly unimportant and desperately needed all at once.
**** "I'm here," he reassured her. Then, because he found he could not stop himself once he started, he muttered "I'm always here." Whether she heard him or not, she pressed forward, a new anxiety in her whisper that informed him her eyebrows were puckered together and that a needy pout had formed which extended not just around her lips but from behind her eyes and even to the quivering of her little chin. "Chuck, I'm calling because I need you to do something for me. If you don't mi—" "I'll do it," Chuck swore without thinking. If she wanted him to get on a jet and fly to Paris to be with her that night, or whether she was calling to officially put an end to the waiting game they were both playing and leave him to a lifetime of hopeless, meaningless days and nights, or if she just wanted someone to deliver chocolates to a friend of hers in Budapest, he would do it for her in a heartbeat. It was a sad but true fact that after sixteen years of divorce, Chuck Bass was utterly and completely under her spell.
****
December 27, 2010. My daddy had to be the most romantic man in the world! And he wasn't even French. :D :D
****
"Do you really want to use this?" He held the mahogany box between us. Of course I wanted it. I had not traveled across the Atlantic Ocean, abandoned my Paris and my dignity and my life as I had always known it to go on a long-shot wild goose chase, and succeeded in finding the man I had been dreaming of since I was six years old against most odds and the hindering wishes of others, to give up when I was so close to fitting the last piece in to place at the heart of the jigsaw puzzle. I was so close. All I needed was that little box and the even smaller thing inside of it, and all my unanswered questions would find peace. But I bit my tongue and withdrew. "Not if you do not want me to have it, papa." Instead of applauding me for my moral standing and rewarding me with a big bear hug to show his approval, daddy rolled his eyes. "Don't lie to me."
****
When he is holed up in his office poring over paperwork or the board kidnaps him for one of those forever long business meetings, I feel like I'm wasting away and nothing will be right again until he comes back. It's awful and unhealthy, but I love that heartless son-of-a-Bass evil Basshole Basstard mother Chucking spawn of Satan. When he walks through the door, his heart comes back and the sunset becomes sunrise. Tell anyone I said that, diary, and I will deny it. I am a Waldorf and no man defines me. (Except Chuck. UGH!)' :D
****
Once upon a time, there was a girl who had a mother and a father. The king and queen lived on either side of a vast ocean, but their love was divided by more than just sea, sky, or boat. First, their love was divided in two: the king raised le petit prince while the queen was gifted with la petite princesse. The children were raised apart, brought up in different homes by different people, taught nothing of their real past, and expected to live out the rest of their lives in blissful ignorance. All did not go according to plan, of course, but if you have journeyed this far, that is a fact you already know. Second, their love was divided in half: by the echoes of the past that sliced through their memories like a knife. These echoes were far-reaching and many-fingered, and above all, they were greedy. They hung over the present like a giant's dead body, history pressing down on fact and choking those who remembered it. And what made it worse was that it was not the king or queen's history, but the histories of their own families – storied and winding enough to fill several tapestries. Third, their love was divided between them: never fulfilled in the absence of affection. A whisper of faded touches, the whiff of a favorite scent on a foreign breeze, a glimpse of someone on a crowded street corner – but when they turn to seek out a familiar gaze, the dream is shattered. Phone calls never made, letters never sent, words never said, words said and forgotten and regretted. Words said and remembered. Promises made at the foot of a gilded throne; fears nourished in years of exile. A queen under a spell: a sleeping beauty. A shell of her former self, playing dress up far away from home, slumbering through life and cold to passion or her heartbeat. A king rode to her rescue and when she saw him in her doorway, the sleep was ended. The veil was lifted, slowly, and with the same care one might take with a bridal sheath. Their love was whole only when they were together, to sit at its hearthstone and nurse its flame with helpful prods from an iron poker. And when their love was whole, it was said the king and queen seemed to be on fire.
Rated: M - English - Romance/Angst - Chuck & Blair Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4625827/1/In_Love_War
Quotes
Lucky numbers always started with 2. A couple made a marriage. Two years of marriage equal a child. At age 2, it's perfect for the 2nd child to be born. Two years after he left, his kisses had finally faded from her skin.
****
He'd always envisioned Blair Waldorf finally finding her Prince, having loads of fair-headed children with Cardboard-Man as she grew gracefully into old age while ruling the trophy wives of the Upper East Side. He'd imagined he would see her in the future, throw in a few crude comments on how she had lost it to him, and possibly suggest a rump in a broom closet as her frigid husband stood drinking Vodka Martinis and probably fucking his male assistant on Friday nights. He would be her dirty little secret then as he had been before. Here she was, years later; penniless, husband-less, homeless, childless, and willing to interview him for fifty fucking dollars.
****
It's not that he loved her – he was sure he didn't love her… but then again he'd never been in love before so he wouldn't know how the hell love was supposed to feel like. The only other person he was supposed to love was his father and that had felt this horrible resentment… he didn't feel that towards her. Maybe he just wanted to protect her? Shield her? Make her whole again? Fix her? Hope that she would fix him? Fuck. Kryptonite. He paced some more. His collar was unnaturally tight lately, he didn't know what was going on with that. 11:51 Shit. She was going to say no. She would just disappear to god-knows-where… shit… He should've known better; he should at least made an attempt to be more gentlemanly about it; not just shove the fact that they weren't in love in her face. What the hell was wrong with him? He should know better – Blair lived, breathed, ate fairytales. 11:56 She wasn't coming.
****
Women, in general, complicated thing. Actually this woman in general complicated things. He hadn't seen her in years – in nearly a fucking decade and now he was all covered with her. He thought about her, smelled her, saw her – it was fucking ridiculous. When the bombs had gone off he had felt his stomach drop, he had made it out of the limo and he had started running as fast as his feet could carry him. He had run the four blocks to the building and was more than grateful when the elevator was working and he had been able to get upstairs. All he had seen in his mind was Blair trapped somewhere, bleeding and dying and that had driven him insane. He couldn't breath – he could just run and save her. When he had seen she was alright he hadn't waited for her to push him off he had just grabbed her to assure himself that she was alright. And having her in his arms, with her small hands grasping back at him had made him feel alive and rejuvenated. Her desperate eyes when her mother had been trapped had done him in. He was all going to hell. In a hand basket. Because after all these years Chuck Bass was feeling something for Blair Waldorf once again. Kryptonite.
****
Chuck Bass was well known for having the face of a delicious devil. Like a lurking Casanova he had deflowered more Upper East Side debutantes than Carter Baizen and Luke Antoine Picard combined. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a billionaire's son, or his low voice, or perhaps it was the way he looked intensely at a woman and made her the center of his universe for that moment. Like he was doing now. Blair had to remind herself in the past that he was only obsessed with her because she never truly wanted him back. What was the excuse now? He was marrying her, taking care of her, handing her good port, and making her feel seventeen once more under his smoldering eyes.
****
"And she's seen you all this time as this Prince Charming that has rescued her and brought her to this fairytale place were you will one day, after being close and connecting, fall madly in love with her!" And then she stopped because just then – right at that moment – she didn't know if she was Clara, if Clara was her – who the hell she was talking about. The lace all over her was obviously making her as crazy and delusional as Clara. She took a sharp breath and held her hands to her mouth. Oh, my God! She was hoping Chuck would fall in love her. With her, Blair Waldorf. She didn't want this ridiculous wedding, this fake marriage – she wanting something real, she wanted him to look her at her with the pure adoration he had back in high school. She was desperate for it. She'd wanted it for years and years, and she had completely fallen apart without it! She couldn't breathe. She just couldn't. She needed to faint. She could use with a good fainting spell. Perhaps she would land in his arms, and he would sweep her up and carry her, deposit her in bed and kiss her and touch her – OHHHHH NOOOO! Her brain was exploding and giving her a severe headache! She just missed having a man, that was all – and Chuck had suddenly turned into this perfect man that she couldn't have imagined him more perfectly perfect with all of his imperfections! Chuck saw her panic and utter breakdown coming on, and he quickly went to her and grab bed her upper arms. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so very sudden because she nearly jumped out of her skin, staring at him with those wide brown eyes that had this odd effect on his stomach. Kryptonite. Mother fuck – Even from the grave Martin teased him. "Ok, listen," he whispered. "I will talk to her. I will." He assured her and, with her eyes still wide, she nodded. And then he did something that he hadn't planned on. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. Softly. The spot… The very spot were his lips had brushed against her skin exploded into her entire body, running fast until it reached the tips of her toes. Oh… She was so sexually deprived. It had been almost three years since she'd had any. All this mess and economic crisis had really kept her occupied. And she was incredibly horny, and he looked incredibly good, and suddenly all Blair could think of was their wedding night. She needed it now. Her inner eye had visions of him throwing her against a wall and pulling her up, entering her as his tongue raked its way up and down her neck with his hands firmly cupping her ass… Oh, shit. She was becoming a mess. A complete and total, uncontrollable mess. "O-ok." Was her only response as he smiled tightly and walked out of the room. She stared at his retreating back and had to physically hold her tongue from crying out that he take her then and there. How many more days until Sunday? Shit! Apparently dress-cut warnings turn her on. No… What turned her on was how he pounded on the door, held her, and then believed her.
****
She'd never felt like this. And she remembered that no man had made love to her the way he had. Make love. Make love to her. She was saying those words in her head, she was chanting them, but they wouldn't escape her lips. Her lips were too busy rediscovering his once more. Tasting them, drowning in them – being assaulted by them. No man had ever kissed her the way she was being kissed now. With the raw hunger of a lifetime of suppression; building, building, until it created an explosion of color. An explosion of lust-filled-love. Love. With the L and with the V.
****
"Why are you here?" He said softly, trying to see what he could decipher from her face, but it was blank. "I married you, I don't know if you remember that," she joked. He swallowed. "No… Why are you here, in this room, with me?" The cool cloth felt fabulous on his neck. She refused to meet his eyes, and he instantly noticed. "I'm your wife… This is what wives do," she said quietly, dipping the washcloth in a water basin and repeating her actions. He reached up and grabbed her hand, and then did something daring. Something he wouldn't have done if he hadn't been pumped full of morphine. He kissed the back of her hand, and her eyes widened. "Thank you," he whispered before sleep took over him and his lids slid closed. Blair was stock still, her hand still in his – entirely too close to his lips, feeling the soft lull of his breath against her skin. She bit her lip, still staring at him, then leaned forward and kissed him, touching his face and assuring herself that he was ok. God, she loved him. Loved him like one would dream of loving someone. Loving him more than she loved herself, which was a strange and horribly frightening feeling, because it meant that losing him would kill her.
****
"Five minutes," he informed themand moved his horse. Chuck swallowed and pulled Blair to the side so they could have some privacy. She was shaking and crying. "Listen to me – listen," his voice shook. "I need you to be brave. I need you look after all these people. I need you to." He pushed her hair back as she stared at him with wide eyes. "I need you to fight like the lioness I know you are." Blair's face crumbled as her hands held onto his face, their breath on one another. "I'll look after them… But who'll look after me?" She sobbed. He pressed his lips to her forehead and held her there. "There are things I need to do." She stared at him, breathing in and out. "You're going after him, aren't you?" She demanded. He said not a word because the answer was in his eyes. He glanced at the crying baby in Dorota's arms. "I need you to look after the baby." She swallowed and nodded. "There's a secret food storage in the basement, don't let them take it," he whispered in her ear. "I will come back. I don't know when, I don't know how, but I will come back." He whispered. He touched her face. "Now… Kiss me like you love me." She gasped. "I do love you." His face fell, and her lips were on him, pouring all of the repressed love into it until she felt empty, like a deflated balloon. He had heard her correctly. At least he thought he said. She had confessed her love. Twenty years of knowing her, and she was finally confessing love. He held her closer because she was, at this moment, the most precious thing in the world to him. She pulled back and stared at him. "Everything is under your name, you have complete jurisdiction over all my goods – " "I never wanted it," she grasped at him. "I gave it to you regardless –" "Thirty seconds," the Captain shouted at them. " – in case of anything –" "Please, please don't go –" she begged. "No choice this time," he attempted a smile, but it only made her cry harder. He touched her face. "I'll see you later." "No!" She gasped and held on to him. "Fifteen seconds!" "Will you marry me?" He asked suddenly, and there was a certain desperation to his voice, as if this was the last time he would hold her, the last time he would feel her. "I already have –" "Not for the money, or for some fleeting emotion, but because we love one another – " he insisted. "Yes, a million times yes! …You love me?" she asked confused. He smiled and kissed her, his eyes were soft and very sad, and it broke her heart. Her heart was breaking at an astronomical pace. "For years now."
****
He was dressed all in black, lacking a few days' shave, but looking sexy as ever with dark eyes and a thick coat. He looked lighter, like he hadn't eaten well, like he'd hungered for something. And he was alone. No Nathaniel. None. "There's something I need to tell you before we say anything else…." He said in low and dark voice. She gulped and nodded for him to begin. "It's not that you couldn't save me," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's that I had to save myself." Her eyes swelled with tears, tears she hadn't realized she had been holding. "It's not that I needed you to forgive me…" he continued. "It's that I needed to forgive myself." She nodded, pressing her lips together, making them pale. "And… It's not that I don't love you…" he whispered, walking slightly closer. "It's that I love you too damn much." Her breath left her body. He was suddenly before her, wrapping her up, wrapping her in his arms, and she let out a strangled sob because she'd waited so long for him, so very long. She hadn't realized she'd been waiting for him to truly come back to her since they were seventeen in that bar on that fateful night. She's wanted him to come back to her, for her, for them. She had wanted it – in the very back of her mind, she had wanted it because only he awoke in her the passionate creature that had laid dormant for so many years. "You came back!" She said harshly against his neck, holding him closer. Her feet lifted off the ground and he kissed her head. "You came back to me…" she whispered, threading her fingers into his soft hair. He pushed her hair back, looking at her, setting her down on the floor once more, his heart bursting. He felt alive once more, like all the moments away from her he'd been in both a physical and emotional desert. Drowning, dying. She was his everything; she was his oasis – his sole reason for staying away from New York. The beginning and the end to all of his sorrows. All wrapped in one little package. "I would've always come back to you…" he kissed her temple. "No matter what lifetime… I always, always will find my way back to you…"
****
He let her kiss him, because what was he going to do? He had, after all, dragged her across the ocean, brought her here to make her his wife, to save her. But the truth was that she had saved him. Saved him from his dark soul and made the world better for him. She had given him a family when he had none, she had given him hope and life and a possibility past all the horridness that their life had had the chance of becoming. Sure, they'd secluded themselves away from the world, but his family had been safe like he had intended them to be. They called it the fifty-dollar effect. He never did tell her all the things she did and went through while he had been away from her. It wasn't that he kept them from her; it was that she loved him unconditionally, despite his darkest thoughts. She stood by him, and that made all the difference. He'd become better because of her and, in turn, he'd seen her bloom into a special sort of perfection right before his eyes. They may have not been basking in the lavish lifestyle of the Upper East Side, but they were still them. They were still Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck, and they were still in love. Plus, it gave him leverage, all his little secrets. He knew she hid them, too. It made it exciting, using their little ammunition every so often. It kept things interesting. Like he hadn't informed her that Serena was finally going to come overseas next week. It was a surprise. She would try to physically hurt him at first but then run around excitedly. It was those little things that made it worth while. Plus, after all… All's fair in love and war.
сестра ты наверно удивлена, что начала я не с "Soulless"...я решила взять пример с тебя и оставить конфетку на десерт
Isabelle
See No Evil
Rated: T - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Blair & Chuck Summary: Set after 'Bad New Blair', an accident leads Chuck to loose his sight. Him and Blair slowly grow closer as she helps him adjust to the loss of his sight. Chuck/Blair. Ссылка на фик:http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4493397/1/See_No_Evil
Quotes
She looked down at her watch. 11:45pm. She should be in bed, not in a hospital. She would leave, but she felt kind of bad leaving Chuck alone when Nate was taking a random walk. It was then that his scream startled her. She sat up and walked to Chuck's room. His head was moving violently from side to side, and he was yelling. Oh, God! She looked around for a nurse but, of course, they were all on lunch break or screwing each other like they did on Grey's Anatomy. She made an executive decision. She walked in and quickly went over to Chuck. He was probably dreaming, because he kept muttering nonsense. She would've smacked him if he wasn't a poor blind bastard. So she yelled back. "Chuck!" She cried. He trashed some more. "Wake up!" She reached out and shook his shoulders. That's when his hands went up and grabbed her upper arms, startling the hell out of her. "Help me." And he said it so desperately that she was pretty sure she would faint. And then he was awake. She could tell because his hands felt different on her arms. Like he was feeling her, trying to figure out who it was he was holding. "Chuck?" Her voice was shaky. "It's ok. You were dreaming." God, she was soothing Chuck Bass. He fell back on the bed, his head sideways as he licked his lips. "Blair?" His voice was hoarse. She quickly grabbed the water pitcher next to his bed and filled a gross-looking cup. "Here, have some water," she said rather forcefully, and she noticed that he instantly grimaced. His hand reached out… blindly. That's when she let herself feel sorry for him, because he looked so sad trying to grasp the cup. Oh God, Chuck was blind. She bit her lip as she reached out and placed her hand behind his head, helping him up. "Here," she said quietly, bringing the cup to his lips. He drank greedily. "More," he asked, and she nodded, filling the cup once more and repeating the act. When he was done with the second cup, he leaned back and she pulled her hands away. She had been touching him. She swallowed. "What time is it?" He asked, and she was startled. She looked down at her watch. "Almost 12. Midnight." She studied his face. He turned his head the other way and then back to her direction. They were quiet. "What are you doing here, Waldorf?" He asked, and there was sharpness to his voice. Somehow this made her feel better because the pathetic Chuck that begged for help made something awful happen to her stomach.
****
She grimaced as she got in the elevator and up to the top floor. She swore even his elevator smelled of sex. Not that she knew what sex smelled like. Did sex have a smell? She gingerly knocked on 1812 and waited for the nurse to open the door. She waited. And waited. And knocked again. More forcefully. He had to be there. Where else would he go? Maybe he was busy. Ugh. She turned to leave, when she heard some stumbling and then finally the door was opened. She let out a squeak and gasped. Chuck was almost naked. Almost. Boxer-briefs covering his slightly erect penis and bandages over his eyes. He looked utterly like hell. "Who is it?" He demanded. He was also drunk as hell. "Blair," she said quietly. She shouldn't have come. Where was his nurse? Was he alone? She was so confused. He relaxed his shoulder and absently scratched his balls. She scrunched up her nose. "Nate's not here," he told her and went to close the door. She got her answer. She should leave. She had to pick out some jewelry. She was busy. "Are you by yourself?" She asked. What happened to walking away? He sighed, and his jaw twitched. He placed one hand on his hip. "What do you want?" He asked, his head bent down. He looked so broken. So unlike Chuck that she wasn't sure how to act around him. She fidgeted and bit her lip. "Look. I don't need any pity," he said quietly. "So please just go." "Where's your nurse?" She asked, stepping forward ever so slightly. He felt her and backed up. She raised her eyebrow. "I heard you were busy planning your party, Waldorf. Off with you." He motioned with his hand. His burnt hand. She took a deep breath and pushed past him into his suite. She scrunched up her face. The place was a disgusting mess. "Out, out," he said behind her, but she stayed away from his reach. This pissed him off and he slammed the door shut. He leaned his bare back on it, crossing his arms over his hairy chest. "You haven't let housekeeping in," she noted. "I want to be alone," he spit out. "In case you haven't noticed." She noticed bottles everywhere but no cups. "Drinking right out of the bottle now, are we?" She quipped and walked to his bar. "It's easier than stumbling for a cup." She turned to look at him. He was in the same position. He hadn't moved. "Come here," she said and saw his jaw twitch. "I'd rather not," he replied. "Where's your nurse?" She asked again. "I don't need a fucking nurse," he snapped. "How are you getting along?" She asked, coming closer to him. "Just fine." She stood before him and reached out to grab his hand. He flinched and pulled away. "I'm sorry," she said quietly after a while. He stood there, breathing and just standing. "I don't need pity-" "It's not pity!" "It's fucking pity and I hate it!" He yelled, and his face was so close to hers that she reeled back. "Fine!" She yelled right back. "Leave!" He demanded. His words did something to her that she hadn't expected. So she slapped him and instantly regretted it because he still had welts. He gasped and pulled back. His mouth was set in a grimace. "I'm sorry," she said instantly. "I'm sorry." His jaw clenched. "Oh God, I'm sorry, Chuck – I didn't mean it!" He listened to her. "Just… God, let me help you." He pulled back from her and grasped the wall as he attempted to walk into the room. He tripped over some clothes on the floor, and she reached out to help him. He growled, and she instantly let him go. "Do you mind not looking at me?" He snapped as he steadied himself against a couch. She swallowed and looked down. He finally sat down on the couch and reached out blindly for a bottle that was there. Half empty, where he had left it. "Chuck…" She walked closer.
****
"When did you last shower?" She demanded. This brought a smirk to his face. She rolled her eyes. "Volunteering a sponge bath?" She let out a breath. "Leave it to you," she stated and sat down next to him again. "I mean, if you're asking, I thought…." He let out a chuckle and this somehow pleased her, because her Chuck enjoyed other people's misery.
****
"You have about ten women in your room," she smirked at him. "I've had more," he responded and let her fix his buttons.
****
When can you take this off?" She asked, touching the band slightly. He flinched, and she pulled back. "I can already take it off. I have prescription sunglasses," he said quietly. But taking the band off meant it was real. She understood.
****
Hilda looked back and forth between the two. "Must have yourself a good man there, Miss Blair, if he's letting you go on about appearing in little skirts in young gentlemen's hotel rooms. Especially ones like this one." Chuck laughed, and Hilda began cutting the bandages over his eyes. "You come here often, girl?" Hilda asked her as she came closer. "Sometimes," Blair admitted, and placed Chuck's homework on his desk. "I brought you your homework." "Ain't she nice," Hilda said, and Chuck flinched when she began pulling at his bandages. "Hold still, lover boy. Take it like a man." Blair didn't know if he would want her there. Maybe she should go. She had completed her visit. She had given him his homework. But, somehow, the way he was flexing his hand as the bandages started to come off made her stay rooted in the spot.
****
"Come here." Blair stepped forward. This woman reminded her of Dorota. "You listen good, he needs to do this twice a day, and he needs to rinse his eyes once a day. I'm going to show you 'cause I don't trust him." "I can do it," Chuck ground out. "Sure you can," Hilda snapped. Hilda showed Blair how to cleanse the area around the eye and once or twice had to tell Chuck to be still as he fidgeted whenever something bothered him. "Now…" Hilda picked up a weird-looking cup. "You fill this half way." She poured some milky substance into the cup, and Blair nodded. "Now, he ain't going to like this." She threw Chuck a glare, and Chuck crossed his arms. "But he needs to do it once a day. Every day until I say so." Blair looked at Chuck, who sat there looking very much like he wanted to fire the woman. Blair had a feeling that Hilda would ignore him or possibly hurt him if he tried to fire her. "Lean forward," Hilda instructed him, and Chuck finally obeyed after debating it for a minute. She carefully placed the cup over his left eye. He flinched. "Steady. Now, easy – easy." She slowly tilted Chuck back, and the liquid covered his eye. "Ok, take a breath." Chuck did. "Now open your eye." It took him a moment and he finally did. He let out a yelp, clenching and unclenching his hands in the air. He wanted to grab Hilda and definitely hurt her. "Steady." Hilda held the cup in place as he almost dislodged it. "It's infected, alright." She turned to Blair. "Hold his head and the cup in place. He needs to keep it there for at least a minute. I know it hurts, boo, but you gotta do it." Blair reached out with trembling hands and sunk her fingers into his hair. She felt him stiffen and then replaced her hand on the cup when Hilda removed hers. "Blink, keep blinking," Hilda instructed him. It took him a few seconds, but he blinked again. Blair attempted to ignore the tear that fell from his other eye, but it fell on her skin and burned her. They were all silent as Chuck blinked a few more times before Hilda instructed her to bring his head back down and give him a breather. "I would let him do it, but I don't trust him." Hilda prepared another cup as Blair tossed the used one. Chuck almost touched his eye before Blair grabbed his hands and pulled them down. For some reason, his fingers stayed in hers until Hilda handed her the next cup. "Ok, Chuck," Blair said, letting go of his hands and taking his head once more. He leaned forward and let her place the cup on his right eye. His jaw twitched as she tilted his head back. His hands came to rest on her legs as she stood between his own. "Ok, blink," she told him quietly. He took a deep breath. When he did his fingers grasped her legs—this was hurting him. She bit her lip. "Sorry," she mumbled. They stood there for a minute, with her hand in his hair as she held the cup and him holding onto her legs whenever he blinked. Without noticing, she began to softly pet his hair whenever he had to blink. It was all she could think of doing to help him out. She realized what she was doing when she saw Hilda staring at them with a raised brow. She quickly stopped the petting, and he must've noticed her stiffen because he dropped his hands.
****
Blair walked Hilda out. The woman stopped by the door as she put on her coat and turned to Blair. "How long have you known Casanova?" Blair smirked. "A while. We've all known each other since kindergarten." Hilda nodded. "You take care of him. From what I can see, he just needs someone."
****
"I'm planning something for that night," she admitted, playing with the end of her skirt. "An elaborate scavenger hunt for the pricey V?" He leered, and she smacked his shoulder. He let out a chuckle. "Well, I'm sure you'll look ravishing. If I were your man I wouldn't need clues to find you." "Or ravish me, I'm sure-" and the words died in her mouth because, suddenly, it was uncomfortable. The thickness in the room was overwhelming, and he lay back on his bed. She watched him; his eyes closed. The swelling was already beginning to go down. "I'm tired," he said and without thinking, she lay next to him, looking at his face. It was so strange that his gaze was not undressing her. He had been undressing her since they were in 6th grade. "Chuck?" She asked quietly. "Hum?" He was falling asleep. "What do you say to coming to the Masquerade with me?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. His head twitched, and he looked her way. "I'll need a friend to keep me company until Nate finds me." She explained to him but more because she needed an explanation for her own question and actions today. He was her friend and she would be doing the same for Serena. He was quiet and then he nodded. "Sure, Waldorf. As long as I play the phantom." She smiled and curled up against him. "I was hoping you'd play the devil." She wasn't sure how long she slept, but the sound of someone entering the room made her open her eyes. She found herself staring into Chuck's sleeping face. His arm was draped over her waist and their legs were intertwined together.
****
She didn't know why, but her stomach was happy when they finally pulled up to the Palace. She was excited to see Chuck. It's not like he could even see her and comment on her stunning dress like he would normally do. Plus, she had dressed up for Nate, not for anyone else. As she stepped out of the elevator and knocked on his door, she was even more nervous; she might've had too much champagne. That was probably the problem. She heard him open the door and let out a laugh at his devil outfit. "Perfect!" She stated. "Really?" He asked, smirk in place. "I look devilish?" "It's trés Chuck." She nodded. "How do you look?" He asked, and she felt a twinge of sadness in his voice. "I…" She thought about it. "Here." She took his hands, and he stiffened, confused. She stood before him and placed his hands on her hair. A small smile formed on his face. "Enjoy it while you can, Bass," she told him as she guided his hands. He playfully slapped her hands away. "I know how to feel up a woman, Waldorf. Give me credit." She let out an exasperated sigh, but she felt flushed. His hands slowly touched her face, her necklace, then they landed next to her breasts and she sucked in a breath. "I'll be a gentleman," he promised. "So says the devil," she quipped and smiled at him as his hands reached her waist. "As predicted. Ravishing," he murmured. Then he started trailing down her hips. "Ok," she interrupted him. Not because she felt flushed and heated. Because they were late. "We're late." She almost saw him raise his brows. He held out his arm and this made her smile. "C'mon, lover." "Say it again," he smirked, and she swatted his arm.
****
"Want to dance?" He finally asked, and she looked at him questioningly. "Dance?" She was perplexed. "Yeah. Remember what Lady Ophelia used to say. One should be able to dance with your eyes closed." She smiled at the memory of their dance teacher. They had been in the same dance class since they were in 4th grade. Chuck had been her dance partner at times, and they danced relatively well together. He would, however, sometimes leave her on the dance floor when he found his newest conquest. "Grab one of your lackeys," he instructed. "Have them play our waltz." She studied him, trying to see his eyes, but they were closed. They would always be closed. She gulped and grabbed Katy. She gave her swift instructions and then watched her disappear. She didn't know if she was more disturbed that she followed his command so easily or by the fact that she knew exactly what waltz he was talking about. They had been no more than 12 and they had won first place in some charity event for young socialites. Nate had been sick that time, and she had been stuck dancing with Chuck. They had nailed it, and since then, she had also considered it their waltz. She took his hand and walked him to the dance floor. She didn't know if it was her imagination working or not, but people seem to clear off the floor to see her and her devil dance. Chuck didn't waste time. The moment the music came on, he grabbed her waist and hand, pulling her against him. She gasped a bit and let him lead. "People?" He asked. "None. The floor is ours," she said, rather astonished. Most people were confused as to why a waltz would play at such a party, but they all stopped to watch them dance. Blair remembered all of her steps. What she didn't remember was what it felt like to be in his arms. Nate was a great dancer, but Chuck took control of the situation. He knew his moves and knew where to place his hands, and if he were still able to see, he would be seeing right into her soul. He wasn't watching her from behind his devil mask, but she felt herself redden as if he were. "Keep up, Waldorf," he smirked as she tripped a little, and she in turned glared at him. Not that he would notice, but it made her feel better. It made her calm down a bit, because the way he was holding her waist was doing nothing for that fitful feeling in her stomach. When the dance ended, Chuck gave her a little bow and offered her his arm. She quickly took it, trying to compose herself as she led them off the dance floor. She was hot and heated, and she didn't know if it was bad AC or what the hell was wrong with her. It must be the costume.
****
She studied his profile. The dance they shared was still burned into her skin, and Nate's indifference was consuming her. "What happened that night?" She finally asked him. She had not dared ask because Nate just jumped around the subject. It was like this big pink elephant that no one was talking about. He turned his head to her voice and looked pensive. "I… can't remember. I just remember us in the limo. He had a couple of drinks and then… I was… it's been so dark ever since." She slid unconsciously closer to him and her gloved hand slid into his. He turned his head in surprise when she leaned up and kissed his cheek. She pulled back, and he was completely shocked and surprised. "You're coming onto me, Waldorf?" His voice was low and husky. She couldn't help but smile. "Not tonight." He smirked. "Then what the hell was that?" "You looked like you needed a kiss." His hair was on its end, and she ran her hand over it. "And I felt like giving you one. If you weren't here tonight, I'm pretty sure I would've been depressed." He slowly smiled. Those smiles she saw only once in a while. Without thinking much of it she lay her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her.
****
"Waldorf." He stood as she was walking out. She turned and avoided his face; it's not like his eyes could see through her anymore. But he was still Chuck, and Chuck sensed things that other normal human beings didn't. He leaned in and quietly said. "Thank you for last night." Her breath caught at her throat.
****
"Oh… it does have franchise potential," she agreed, and there was a pleased look on his mouth. "Chuck Bass, I do believe all your years of underage boozing and womanizing have finally paid off." She let out a laugh and smiled up at him. "Truly I am proud." "And you are my toughest critic." It was at that moment, while standing right before him, that she missed his sight the most. Because the smile was lost on him and, once this place was up and running, he would never see the final product of all of his hard work. He talked a bit about his father, who happened to be in town. She had to run to school, though, so she handed him over to Giselle, his personal assistant. As she was walking away, she turned to look back at him. "Don't be nervous, he's going to love it!" She called back, and he stood there for a minute, looking her direction with a strange smile on his face. The smile did something to her stomach. She should've eaten breakfast.
****
"Thanks for the lift home," she said quietly, looking at him. She still couldn't believe herself. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. Hours ago, she had had a Vanderbilt ring on her finger and had been so horribly unhappy that she had almost fainted. Now, she was in her negligee, tipsy, with her blind friend, and she felt so very happy that she couldn't describe it. He turned his head to her, his face still amazed. He took off his sunglasses. "I bet you were amazing up there," he whispered. "I wish I could've seen it. If only just once." And the way that he said it with such wistfulness that she couldn't help herself but feel amazing at his words. Chuck Bass wished he could've seen her dance. He didn't wish to be able to see a female orgy one last time. No. He didn't wish to have one last night tearing the town apart with Nate. No. He wished he could see her. Her heart melted, and she reached out for his hand. He grasped it in his, and she didn't know why, but now the soft rumbling in her stomach didn't feel so unwelcomed. So she slid down the leather and pressed her forehead against his. He let out a breath, and she smelled mint and cigarettes in his mouth. He wasn't smirking, he wasn't laughing, but he had a look of genuine lust and something else she couldn't describe.
****
"Are you sure?" He whispered. And that's when she knew it. She was going to lose her virginity to Chuck Bass. In the back of his limo. And he wouldn't even be able to see her. But who kissed with eyes opened? And… boy, was it was amazing. His hands knew exactly what to touch, what to do, what to feel. She felt herself crashing and burning and being found once more.
****
"I don't care that you're blind." He buried his head in her chest and pulled her closer to him. They stayed there for a few minutes, and her heart felt this sudden fluttering sensation that she couldn't control.
****
They slept tangled in each other for the rest of the night, and when she woke, she knew he was awake. It made her sad once more that he couldn't see her. She had a feeling this was bothering him also. "Good morning," he whispered when she woke. She smiled and touched his face. "How did you know I was awake?" "I could sense it," he admitted and kissed her hand. "I notice more things now." "Like?" She asked, playing with each one of his fingers. "Like, I know it's you that enters a room, because I can smell you and the way you walk is different. I know it's your steps." She grinned, burrowing closer to him. "Like I know you've wanted me for a while," he murmured into her ear. The sound of his vibrating voice sent shivers up her spine. She gasped. He chuckled and pulled her closer.
****
Oh, B," Serena sighed. "Do you… like him?" Blair grimaced. She knew she was happy with Chuck. That Chuck made her happy. That Chuck made her feel sexy, needed and wanted, but she hadn't actually attempted to classify, sort and alphabetize her feelings for him or for them. "Define like." Serena gasped, eyes wide. "Oh my god!" "Oh my god!" Blair exclaimed right after her, hands on mouth. She liked Chuck Bass. OMG. "You like him!" Serena pointed at her. "I do!" Blair grimaced. "I… oh, no… S, what am I supposed to do?" Serena held her hands tightly. "It's ok. Let's think about think. How much do you like him? Like a little, he has a great voice, or like a lot, I may possibly get butterflies?" Blair thought for a moment, thinking back to before he got hurt: how much she enjoyed their little jives, and when Serena was away, how he had been almost sweet and how he had watched her. And now he was showing her his vulnerable side, which she was sure no one else saw. The intimate moments they spent as she helped him and he fought her, the way he kissed her and the way he worshiped her body and the way they ate breakfast together and how she could completely forget about Nate, her mom, their world when his voice was melting her insides. Oh Shit "We're in butterfly territory," she admitted to Serena and herself.
****
"Chuck?" Her voice was hoarse, and she was crying. He stepped out of the shadows, dressed in black and completely immaculate. If she didn't know he was blind, she would've thought he was staring her down. His jaw was set, his body rigid. He was bracing himself to take the bullet. Bite down on this, it'll hurt less. Drum. Drum. "No need to feel you tonight, I know you must look stunning." His voice betrayed not a thing, and she stepped forward, wiping the silent tears that continued to fall. "I want you..." and she came closer. "To touch my face." His body shifted. "I don't want to touch you."
****
эротикШн
His hand went from her shoulder to her face as he felt her eyes and her wet cheeks. "You're crying," he whispered. She reached out to touch her own tears; once her fingers were wet, she softly pressed them to his lashes. He blinked and opened his eyes. She stared at them, willing her tears to bring them back to life. "Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew clear again, and he could see with them as before," she whispered. He nearly groaned and pressed her even further into the wall, his body pinning her down, making her realize just how much stronger than her he was. "What is this, Blair?" He demanded, his face so close to hers that she wondered where his began and where hers ended. "Rapunzel," she whispered, still crying. Drum. Drum. "This is not some fucking fairy tale!" He yelled at her. "I. Can't. See. Ever. Ever again." "I know!" She shouted, grasping his face. And then he was kissing her. Hard and punishing and twisted – what a twisted fairy tale. The soundtrack in her head became more violent, demanding, the climax was at its peak. Something was winning, and it was certainly not happily ever after. She returned his anger in her kisses, grasping at him, their hands touching each other, leaving bruises, creating scars. And she wrapped her legs around him as he picked her up by her ass and began dry pounding through their clothes. His mouth found her neck and she gasped as he bit and licked, expressing his frustration through his tongue. She would wear turtle necks for weeks. "Bed," he said, his fingers digging into her hips. She slid off him and pulled him to the bed. When he felt the bed, he threw her down and stood over her. He grabbed her feet and slipped her shoes off quickly, pressing his teeth to the arch of her foot. He bit down on it, and she arched back, her hands begging him to be on top of her. "I need you," she said desperately. He let go of her foot and crawled on top of her, pressing his nose to the valley between her breasts. "Not as much as I need you." And his hands felt their way under her skirt, finding the edge of her stockings. He dipped his head and licked right under her bellybutton, making her arch up to meet his mouth. "Chuck, please, please," she was mumbling now. He pulled her stockings down along with her thin La Perla panties and, without preamble, stuck his fingers inside of her. She hissed in appreciation. "Did he touch you?" He demanded, and she shook her head from side to side because she had lost words. Drum. Drum. "No," she finally said. He let out a dark chuckle. "Did you want him to touch you?" He asked, curling his fingers and massaging her clit. She sat up, grabbed his face and kissed him like her life would end at that very minute. He pulled his hand out of her and pulled her against him, deepening their kisses and unbuckling his pants. She helped him, haphazardly, unleashing him from his pants and grabbing him, messaging him one, two, three times before he pushed her back down on the bed, then flipped her over. Before she could protest, he was on top of her and thrusting in from behind, making her eyes cross in delirium. It would've been humiliating if she wasn't so very turned on and needy, and if he was not draped over her, kissing her shoulder as he thrust in and out. She was wriggling on the bed, grasping the pillow, grasping at anything as he pounded harshly into her. And then he was coming, biting down on her neck as he let out a yell. The feel of him spurting into her sent shivers down her spine, and she came harder than she ever had before. His fingers found her clit and messaged it and, before she was down from her first orgasm, another one took over her body. She yelled into the pillow, forgetting who she was, what she was doing, and who was on top of her. His body was limp on top of her as she slowly came to reality. In the back of her mind she realized they hadn't used a condom and that left a calm chill in the pit of her stomach. She rolled herself off from under him until he lay next to her, eyes closed and breathing hard. She stared at him as the little stars in her eyes slowly dissipated "Did I hurt you?" He asked, quiet and sad. She reached out to touch his face, and he pulled away from her. "You didn't," she whispered, and he finally reached out, blindly, to touch her face. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said. "You didn't," she repeated, turning her face into his hand. His fingers smelled like her juices. He was quiet as he ran his fingers over her face, touching all of her, her nose, her lashes, and her eyebrows. "You're going to be the death of me," he finally said, and she pulled herself up, laying her head on his shoulder, looking up at him. "It's a good way to go," she smirked, kissing his lips. He pulled her against him, and she held on to him because she realized she could've lost him tonight. And that frightened her to the very core.
****
боже какая фраза....БУ ты умница здесь
She took a deep breath and voiced what she had been slowly discovering. "I think it's time I grow up. The time for fairytales is over."
****
"Did you sleep with him?" He demanded, stalking up to her. She backed up against the wall, breathing loudly as he took her face in. 'I let Chuck Bass fuck me and I liked it.' was written all over her face. 'I would do it again. Right now. In this hallways with you watching.'. And Nate saw it.
****
"That is just disgusting, Bass. I am a lady. You don't do that in front of ladies." She was red and hated him for making her red. And where was Nate? He should've been affronted at Chuck's behavior, not amused. He had stopped laughing and was gazing down at her, and she didn't know how to react because Chuck Bass only gazed at short skirts. "I know you're a lady," he had said quietly, and she hadn't known how to respond to that. "Well, you just know everything, don't you?" She had snapped. "I know everything about you," he had answered, and then he had stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away. She stared after him for a moment before shaking herself off and walking to the other direction. That was her moment, she realized as she remembered. He had always watched her and Nate together, but he had mostly watched her. He knew if she was happy, if she was sad, if she was angry if – anything. Chuck Bass knew her more than Nate ever could. Chuck would've noticed if she had been in love with someone else. He would've known the moment before it happened, when it happened, and why it happened.
****
"Oh my God, Blair!" Blair didn't hear Penelope's exclamation, but in the back of her throat she knew what had caused the commotion because something in the air changed, and she found it very difficult to breathe. The girls parted and there at the bottom of the stairs was none other than Chuck Bass. Black coat on, scarf loose around his neck with his sunglasses on, looking down. His hands were in his pockets, and he was leaning casually against the stair handle. "Chuck," his name was out of her lips before she could control it. The girls all stared at her, and the confirmation of those whispered rumors became all too real. He turned his head up slowly and then he casually removed his sunglasses and stared right at her. "Waldorf," he smirked. His eyes were deep, dark, and as sultry as they had been in sixth grade. He blinked at her and nodded.
****
"Why are you smiling?" He asked. "Because you're back," she said in a small, tiny voice. "And the fact that you did it; and are now here, sitting next to me… I don't care how much you hate me right now. I love you, and I missed your glare."
****
You said 'I care about three things, Nathaniel. Money, the pleasures money brings me, and you.'" Blair pressed her hand over her eyes because she could see Chuck saying that. She could almost hear his voice. Burnt face and all, still loyal to the end. Nate took three gulps from the bottle and set it down loudly on the table. "But the truth is… the truth is you lied. Didn't you?" He asked softly. "Because you cared about her, even then."
****
"Him?" He asked incredulously. "He smelled like you," she shrugged and brought him down for a kiss. Chuck pulled back and studied her. "He smelled like me?" A smirk formed on her face. "You jealous, Bass? 'Cause it's cute on you."
о да ревнивый Басс...я бы каждый день смотрела на ЭТО ( )
****
And he had pulled her before a mirror. She stood naked in front of it, and he was also naked behind her. With his hands he guided her to touch her own body. "You," he whispered against her ear as his hands guided her own around her chest. "Are stunning."
****
"I suppose we're not the most pleasant people," she agreed. "Most can't stand us," he put in. "It's a miracle we stand each other," she nodded.
Rated: M - English - Romance/Drama - Chuck & Blair Summary: AU C/B. Chuck Bass is prepared to exact his father's most desired revenge upon the Waldorf family. However, when he meets the object of his revenge, Blair Waldorf, he finds himself entranced by the brown-eyed brunette, and risking everything to have her. Статус: в процессе Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4801195/1/Blood_and_Butterfly_Wings
Quotes
After a moment of hesitation, she smiled, leaning forward until their lips were a mere breath apart. Her hair shielded their faces from prying eyes, her palm sliding upward so that her fingers curled around his belt buckle. His eyes shut in pleasure at the light touch, lips parting ever so slightly to meet her advance. One more second, a simple lean forward, and it would be done. All it would take was one thrust in a secluded room, and he'd have her screaming her indiscretions in record time. It would begin with a gentle kiss. Then, murmured promises whispered hotly in her ear as she clawed most desperately at his bare back, thighs wrapped most tightly around his lean waist, sweaty palms clutching the sheets below him as he continually pounded- A cooling sensation swiftly doused his thoughts. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked downward, a red blotchy stain clearly etched on his pants. Then, he lifted his eyes to meet her amused face, the empty martini glass held triumphantly between her fingers, her form easily hovering over his stupefied character when she stood. "Save your cheap lines for the easy girls, Mr. Chuck."
****
She huffed angrily, folding her arms defiantly against her chest. What was he doing, following her? "What do you want, Chuck?" He took a few moments to catch his breath. Then, he rose upward, voice level and smooth, meeting her dark eyes. "One night." Her lips parted, her brows furrowed. "What?" He licked his lips, words dark and pointed. She couldn't say she didn't understand him. "One night. With you." Silence. She seemed to assess his proposal. Finally, her eyes saddened and drooped, and she looked downward to avoid his powerful gaze. "I'm sorry," she murmured until he had to strain to hear her. "But I can't." She moved to turn around, intent on returning back to her apartment and crying herself to sleep. How humiliating; she had quivered under his gaze at the restaurant, and now her voice was uncontrolled as she declined his invitation. She needed to avoid him seeing her watery eyes. Suddenly, a hand jutted out and tightened around her arm in pure pleading, and she lifted her eyes upward to meet Chuck's beseeching caramel orbs. The same color of caramel she had seen in her dreams. The color of pure caramel as he lifted his head to meet her shocked gaze. She was sure that if that unrelenting dream returned tonight, she could guess the next course of action. And it wouldn't involve words. "Please say yes." Her eyes widened, lips parted, hand shook against his touch as he brought his palms upward to cup her frozen cheeks. Immediate warmth flowed through her skin as he held her face so affectionately. And he was looking at her with such concentration that she could have fainted, then and there. "One night, and I'll leave you alone forever." Her heart pounded incessantly, and she licked her lips blindly, watching his eyes flash downward to meet her pink tongue. Flurries of white snowflakes clung to his dark locks as more flakes met her porcelain skin. "I won't fall in love with you, you know." She cursed her shivering voice. His mouth slowly formed into the devilish smirk she knew all too well, meeting her dark orbs. "Who said anything about falling in love?"
****
The lit cigarette dangling from his lips, Chuck walked over to Blair. She had stretched lazily against the sheets, her arms reaching out in a catlike gesture, her eyes drifting shut. "Was the male model really necessary?" A smile stretched across her lips. Still keeping her eyes shut, her arms reached out for him. And he heeded her command. He braced his arms around her form, leaning over her petite body, his lips a mere inch away from her forehead, the smoke from the cigarette hanging from his lips curling around their forms. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, initiating her first intimate gesture with him. "Are we feeling a bit jealous, Chuck?" A delicious grin formed on his face. "I only wanted to strangle the man." Her eyes revealed their dark color, and she laughed with amusement, the intoxicating noise permeating the tense room around them. Behind them, Ramos continued to flicker through the pictures on his camera. But unbeknowst to them, his eyes were shifting from the screen on his device to the duo on the bed. "Don't worry," she murmured. "I sent him on his way after he tried a few moves." His lips moved to rest against her ear, lightly tracing the delicate organ, a touch so effortless that she nearly groaned with desire. "Good." His easy response vibrated against her ear, and she shut her eyes in response, attempting to control the rapid breathing that had overcame her. Never before had a simple touch brought so much heat to her body. This man had inspired so many feelings in her; ones of longing. Of passion. Of romance. And most of all, of desire. "Kiss me, Chuck." Even with her eyes shut, she could sense the tense feeling that had overwhelmed him. Her words had been spoken in a whisper, but she was sure he had heard her desperate request. It wasn't like this with other men; usually, a kiss came at the end of the first date, and it never seemed to surprise her in intensity, like the women of the movies who would fall desperately in love with that one enticing suitor. But her recent experience with Chuck had certainly crossed the lines of normalcy. She frantically wanted to feel his lips pressed upon against her own, to feel how this man would take her. She yearned for his fingertips to press harshly against the skin at her thighs, to feel his lips trace an entire trail across her body, to tangle her fingers in the dark locks he so magnificently sported. She wanted him; all of him, all that he had to offer. However, instead of fulfilling her most desperate desire, he brought his forehead to rest against hers for the third time that day. "I don't think I'll be able to stop, Blair." She stared up at him, biting at the corner of her full bottom lip. "Then don't stop." She would never think of herself as this reckless woman! All of her life, her events had been planned out to the utmost extent, and even today, her daily schedule was neatly organized and fulfilled. Blair Waldorf was a woman who lived on the organized cordialities of her life; in fact, she thrived on them. But with Chuck, life seemed to get a bit more hectic. He brought out a side of her she never knew could exist; a passionate, vibrant woman who could entice any man that came her way. But she only wanted one man. And currently, that one target was looming over her, his eyes nearly black with desire as he took in her petite body pressed up against the sheets below him. She nearly gasped at the intensity of the color, amazed that the caramel color that she had seen in her dreams could shift so quickly to the dark night sky he had shown her last night. He licked his lips in preparation, breath stilling as he took in the unique scent that was Blair Waldorf, his lips a mere breath away from her own. An enticing, warm scent of vanilla sugar seemed to cling to her form, a fragrance he had encountered even within the heated environment of the shower. She had bewitched him, body and soul, and he nearly wept at the warmth he would encounter whenever in her presence. Never before had a woman ever had such a profound effect on him; it amazed him that a simple combination of chocolate curls and doe-eyed innocence could make him feel the vibrant sensations of pulsating heat. Snap. Before he could gloriously settle his lips against hers in a climatic dance, their heads shot together in unison at the sound of a pesky camera near them.
****
"Blair…" he breathed, his response a throated whisper at the image before him. "I…" She pressed a finger atop his lips, urging his silence as she shushed the breathless explanation that was sure to follow. He heeded the unspoken command, reveling in the sensation of her finger tracing the shape of his lips, just as she had done the earlier night. But this time, she was lucid and logical, and the mist that had overwhelmed the shade of her orbs was nonexistent within the confines of the fond moment. Her lips slightly parted, she moved forward, resting her lips against the smooth skin of his upper cheek. She could have sworn a twinge of pink still rested atop his skin, from the vicious imprint her palm had left upon his features. She had been so eager, so desperate to mar the perfected features he so innocently sported that her hand had left a stinging impression, a mark of relentless imperfection against his wretchedly divine soul. Guilt immediately overcame her at the false accusation, and she pressed her lips more firmly against the skin. It was an olive branch, an effort of despaired apology by a woman who knew not how to speak, but how to show her beloved adoration. Chuck's eyes rolled backwards, revealing the pearly whites through half-shut lids as her lips traced a delicate path of persistent butterfly wings down his cheek. The sensation was of the softest flutter, but still holding a slight shaking through the journey. Her lips trailed downward, bringing lovely warmth throughout his body as his hands clutched at her hips, fingers pressing tightly against the skin. Her lips met the corner of his, and she paused, hovering a bit at the weighty moment. Chuck turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes, so that their lips, like many instances before, stood a breath away from contact. Vanilla. The mind-consuming question throughout the entire journey was finally acknowledged. Her lips tasted of the sweetest, most wretchedly exquisite vanilla. She pressed herself more firmly against him, arms tightening at his neck and breasts pushed up against his beating chest. His hands, of their own volition, moved down from the clutch at her hips and caught her thighs, wrapping rigidly around them and urging her closer to his form. His tongue dipped into her mouth, and all rational thought that had been left over eternally waved farwell as she moaned erotically, tongues mashing together in a heated dance of pent-up desire. The kiss grew more furious and needy, her fingers grabbing the locks of dark hair resting behind his neck and tugging ruthlessly at them, angling his head upwards. Her lips found the bare surface below his jawbone, and his eyes shut tightly at the sensation of her blessed tongue licking at the nude skin with hungry abandon. Never before had a woman invoked such passion within him. The little vixen had her tongue trailing along his neck, and he found that the simple act was lighting a familiar fire deep within his belly, a raging inferno between two encountered lovers. Just when he thought that the fire would consume the two in a final battle of confined obsession, she pulled away from him, and his eyes shot open as the sensation disappeared. Their eyes met in silence. He understood the plea she held within the shade of her orbs, indicating to her that he would oblige to her fiery advances. His breath lodged in his throat as her hands crossed and grasped at the material of her dress, tugging the silver clothing over her head and tossing it against the floor. Leaving her in a corset shell from her heaving breasts to her mid-thighs, a bit of skin, and eternal stockings covering her endless legs as she shifted her balance to her knees to hover over him. The brash action had left her lips crimson and swollen, her face flushed, eyes wide and colored like burnt chocolate, gazing deep within his soul. And finally, after weeks of agonizing images and stolen visions, he surrendered to the furious beating of his traitorous heart. His mouth met hers, pushing against her until her back lay plush against the couch, his form lingering over hers. Her dainty fingers entangled between the shirt collar and his neck, flicking open the buttons at the top to release the magenta collar. His jacket and tie fell to a useless heap atop the carpet as her palms slipped beneath his shirt, caressing the rough curls of dark hair at his chest. His tongue left her mouth and licked a sensual path across her cheek before it traced the delicate curve of her ear. Blair moaned loudly at the sensation and pressed his body tighter to hers, so that the curls of his chest hair pressed up against her tight bodice. "Lift your leg for me, Blair." The heat that escaped his mouth overcame her ear at his breathless request and the accompanied endearment. She relented to his command, wrapping one leg around his waist, one heel digging into his lower calf. His mouth moved from her ear and he caught her eyes, as their rhythmic heavy breathing filled the room. Keeping the pointed gaze, Chuck's fingers slid from her ankle along her leg, relishing in the smooth surface of the porcelain skin. His thumb pressed ever so lightly behind her knee before continuing the trail upwards so that his entire palm wrapped around her upper thigh and disappeared into the black corset shell. Gulping, Blair kept her eyes locked on the nearly black eyes of Chuck. When his head moved downwards, her eyes met the dark locks atop his head as his lips aroused the smooth skin at her chest. Her eyes rolled backwards as his lips pressed more firmly against the top of an exposed and heaving breast. Bottom lips caught between her teeth, Blair's eyes fluttered shut as her fingers urgently pressed his head roughly against her right breast. She glorified in the heat of the overwhelming sensations that had overcame her, as his tongue and lips alternated between biting and pressing urgent kisses against the sensitive skin. The weeks of endless torture, when his fingers had danced ever so seductively over her palm, and his breath had been a mere inch from her neck, finally found release as Chuck tasted the porcelain skin he had grown to worship. A vibrating sensation against her inner thigh interrupted the fiery torture. Chuck's lips lifted from the sensitized skin, his gaze meeting hers at the most unwelcome disruption. His fingers left the warm coccoon below the shell as they dove into his pants pocket, retrieving the cellular device and tossing it atop the coffee table before meeting his lips to her arm. "Chuck..." she breathed against his ear, her body lifting itself off the leather of the couch as her fingers held ever so rigidly to his collar. He knew who it was, even with the unfamiliar number flashing across the display. When the vibration began once again, Blair chuckled at his brazen action and managed to speak. "Chuck! What if it's someone important?" His lips stopped their torturous surrender and his eyes lifted upwards to meet hers. "It's not." That seemed to be an appropriate answer as his teeth dug into the skin at her shoulder. She gasped loudly, legs tightening around his waist as she soared over him, fingers delving into the bare skin behind his neck, chocolate curls wrapping around them to hide their forms. But as soon as the wretched vibration ended, it began for a third time, moving the cellular device across the table. Blair groaned at the disturbance and met his frustrated gaze. "Take the call, Chuck." His eyes held her own for a few moments. As much as he would have enjoyed to continue the evening in the direction it was heading, Blair would get suspicious at the number of relentless calls, effectively destroying the mood. He nodded slowly, and she lifted herself off him, in a flurry of mussed curls and shaking legs. Before she left, however, she leaned downwards, inviting Chuck to a tempting glimpse of her cleavage. Chuck smirked, pressing his lips tightly against hers. When the kiss grew in intensity with mashing tongues and lips, and he was sure that their previous position would be revisited, Blair pulled away and smiled devilishly, her heels taking her away from the scene.
****
And yet, Blair Waldorf had stood there, eyes glued to the scenery outside of the building, memories of her time with Chuck engulfing her mind. He had stood at the foot of the building, kissed her softly with the flakes of falling snow serenading them, his arms unwilling to allow her passage into the building. When he had begun to walk down the sidewalk after consistent pleading from Blair, she had ran after him and grabbed at his face, kissing him with every ounce of her being, until they had both pulled away breathless, pecks of snow littered in her curls, her lips whispering a promise of three o'clock. And he had grinned immensely, his lips meeting hers for a final time before her playful shove directed him to the sidewalk. When she had nearly danced back into the building (quite reminiscent of Sleeping Beauty, after having met the prince in the forest), a few interns catching her behavior as a delirious smile was plastered upon her features, Gloria had appeared before her, her narrowed eyes peering over red-rimmed spectacles hanging off the end of her nose, foot tapping impatiently against the tiles below her, before she had thrust a file to Blair and stomped away in pure anger at Blair's obvious lateness, and most horribly, her lack of concern, considering she had never been late her entire life. .... After all, one night together didn't qualify a boyfriend-girlfriend status, now, did it? And yet, the larger part of her, and probably the more selfish aspect of her being, yearned to inform people of their status. She wanted to yell it out to the world, scream it out for all of New York City to hear, that the most handsome man that had ever walked its streets was hers, and no one else's.
****
Downing the entirety of the liquid in a quick gesture, Blair's tongue darted out to capture the golden liquid that had rested against her lips. Her eyes watched Chuck's gaze drop from her eyes to the barely visible drop against her bottom lip coated in a bright red color. When his eyes lifted to hers, she kept the prolonged gaze and slowly lowered the glass to the carpet below them. Removing her seatbelt, Blair moved forward a bit, watching Chuck's eyes lighten with a mesmerizing glow. She had chosen to wear a figure-hugging dress of a navy blue color, streaks of white against the stretched fabric that went a few inches above her knees. She had paired the outfit with a short white cardigan falling below her breasts. Her legs had seemed endless until they finally rested against a pair of black stilettos, her dark hair still resting in glorious and effortless curls. Her palms moved to rest against the angled contours of his face, and with a painstakingly slowness, her lips touched his. Chuck's eyes drifted shut at the sensation of her lips moving against his. She moved with a slight hesitancy, hands roaming across his smooth jaw line and finally cupping him at his neck. Even with the taste of champagne still heavy on her mouth, a vague mixture of mint and cigarettes permeated her tongue, the most unique combination she had ever encountered. When she pulled away, her lips swollen and smeared even amidst the gentle aura of their kiss, she spoke. "I think…" she murmured, thumbs slowly starting to draw lazy circles at the skin behind his ears, "I think you're the most amazing person I've ever met." Chuck's lips parted in confusion, his brows furrowed a bit as he gazed at Blair's features so affectionately. He wasn't exactly sure what Blair meant by that statement; the soft whisper accompanying her voice, as if she herself was stunned by the chosen words, was intensely mystifying. But before he could respond, her head moved to rest against his chest, nose furrowing into the material of his coat. His arm, with a slight hesitancy, curled around her shoulders, and he heard her gentle sigh, her palm resting against his beating heart as she bent her legs underneath her form. Chuck bit back the happy sigh he was sure was ready to escape him. Never before had he felt such utter completion, the sense of actually being needed overwhelm his body. Blair had moved as close as humanely possible, permeating the air around them with a slight hint of a vanilla and the pricey scent of Chanel. With her form so near to him, his earlier preoccupations and worries escaped him; now, with the lulling comfort of her proximity and the soft tendrils of darkened curls at his fingertips, he could honestly say that, for the first time in his life, all felt right with the world.
****
"Do you hear that?" When Chuck only seemed to offer confusion, her eyes enlarged slightly, hand tugging at his as she urged him towards her. "Come on!" She broke out in a slight jog, which Chuck was absolutely fascinated by considering the towering height of her heels, as he found himself following her through a darkened alleyway they had just passed. Thankfully, there was no one littering the street side, their forms the only living souls in the dead of the night. Apartment buildings gave way to a narrow path as she kept a tight grasp on his hand, leading him through the murky shadows as they passed through numerous alleys. His ears began to hear the strains of soft piano accompanying a man's deepened voice. When Blair stopped, he looked upwards, finding an old-fashioned radio leaning against one of the highest windows in an aging apartment complex. The couple inside seemed to have forgotten the music they had left atop a windowsill, the interior of the apartment darkened and void of any light, allowing the softened notes of the piano to fly throughout the tiny space. Chuck immediately recognized the cavernous and soaring voice of Nathan Pachecho, finding it absolutely normal that the entire alley wasn't disturbed by the music. The Venetians would retire early to their rooms in the winter season, always seeming to part their days with the most highly acclaimed vocalists of the decade. His eyes locked with Blair's smile, saw her shed the cardigan against a nearby ledge, saw her extend her arms toward him. "Dance with me." His eyes stared at the exposed skin, the moonlight gleaming against the porcelain surface so that she seemed absolutely ghostly among the darkness. The gold of her necklace beamed off the only source of color at her neck, the red of her lips dark and proud. Once again, he found himself mesmerized by the allure of her ethereality. Chuck stepped forward, her body easily sliding against his as he held her. Normally, their swaying forms in a darkened alleyway, the strains of the expert piano around them, would seem a bit unusual. A habitual smirk teased his features as they moved silently to the music, her eyes a bit wild and beautifully colored. "What is he saying?"
La luce delle stelle scintilla sul mare Illumina il mio amore E riposa sulla scia che si posa su di te
Her words were spoken with a whispered curiosity. Slowly, he licked his lips, his fingers unconsciously drawing misshapen patterns at her cloth-covered waist. "The light of the stars shimmers on the sea, and, like my love, follows the wake until it rests on you." He saw the muscles of Blair's throat work, saw her eyes lock with his.
La forza dell'alta marea mi spinge sulla tua spiaggia E son prigioniero della tua bellezza, mi perdo affogando tra le tue braccia come le onde si confondono nel mare Io mi arrendo dentro te che sei il mio universo, il mio unico amore
"The strength of the tide pulls me to you, and I'm made a prisoner to your beauty. I lose myself drowning between your arms, as if I were a wave disappearing into the sea. I abandon myself inside of you, and find within you my universe and my only love." Blair's eyes kept with his, the color of her orbs slowly lightening to a warm caramel, and he effortlessly turned her, had her so that her back was pressed against his chest, his palms a curve at her waist, his lips a soft caress at her ear.
Due occhi brillanti, profondi come il mare, incantano come sirene, Hanno stregato il mio cuore e vuole solo te Tu sei la mia splendida luna e illuminerai per sempre il mio mare
"Two brilliant eyes, profound as the sea, enchant me like sirens, to bewitch my heart so that it wants you and you only. You are my shining moon, and you will forever light the seas that I follow." Blair's eyes had blissfully shut, the butterfly wings at her ear tenderly swaying her body back and forth to the piano strains. She felt as if she was floating, carried by a divine force whose endless torture involved the impending flutter of butterfly wings. Slowly, she brought her hand to the larger hand at her waist, moved it up, soothing it against the fabric of her dress until it rested underneath the curve of her breast. Chuck gulped soundly, the tips of his fingers beginning a barely-there rove underneath the plump mound that had Blair shiver slightly in his arms. He pressed his forehead against the silken strands of chocolate, rested his lips against the curve of her ear, his breath blistering and engulfing against the surface. When the piano strains grew softer, and the melody became far more haunting, she heard the rasp of Chuck's voice. "Il mio unico amore…" Blair felt herself grow dizzy, felt the gentle caress of Chuck's fingertips at her breast, felt her lids refuse to open, felt the smooth shape of Chuck's bottom lip as it settled against her ear, as he sang the words to the Italian love song. "Il mio universo…" And there they swayed, his arms a warm cocoon around her body, her ear pressed against his lips, her heart stilling slowly, as the darkened tone of Chuck's rasp became the only sound she could hear.
****
(далее полный эротикшН ) "Do you want to know a secret?" She felt Chuck's throat work in laughter, felt the vibrations of his amusement. "Always." She pursed her lips once, twice, thrice, before speaking. "I've been dying to have you touch me." She felt Chuck's forehead press against her cheek, his palms pressing deeper into her robe-clad belly. And even Blair could not understand his breathless sigh, the meaning cloaked behind it. Inclusive and rampant hunger. She kept her eyes to the mixture of their hands, moving her fingers to the tie at the ivory robe. Daintly, she tugged the silk free, allowing the elegant fabric to fall at their feet. Immediately, she felt Chuck's desperate inhalation, felt the inner turmoil seep through her backside. She had never ever been so brazen before; the old Blair Waldorf would have cringed at the forwardness of her gesture. But that is what had gotten her here, was it not? Vaguely, she recalled her annoyance at the forward lips that had pressed against her hand so confidently, at the smirk of the man accompanying such lips within the staged theme of Victrola. Strangely enough, she felt a bit of exhiliration at how easily she had been able to slip off the robe; Chuck Bass had created a new Blair Waldorf, she realized. And this Blair Waldorf would get whatever she deemed absolute. Chuck's palms rose up her bare arms, clutching at the warmed skin in pure agony. This was far too much; being with Blair in that way would give rise to complications he hadn't even had the time to worry over. Crushingly, he recalled the promise he made to himself atop her balcony in New York City, the blare of the taxicabs a serenade for his most regretful decision, as she had lain a few feet away from him, unaware of his most wretched deceit. So, at that moment, standing before the lights of New York City, Chuck Bass resolved never to sleep with Blair Waldorf. And yet, watching the way she had so easily told him of her desires, and the way her porcelain skin nearly seemed to glow, that would definitely be the concluding crescendo of the night. Chuck tightened his eyes as the sensation of the soft silk against his nostrils coursed through his veins. All he could feel, see, smell, hear was Blair fucking Waldorf; silken skin, dark curls, vanilla and Chanel, a throaty laugh amonst a crowded streetside. God, he wanted her. He had wanted her the minute his father had placed glistening photographs before his gaze, coupled with an exuberant dictation of the plans they would have for the young vixen. He had wanted her when she had pressed her forehead against his, the New York chill unable to ward the warmth of her body against his. He had wanted her when her eyes had been misty, and her motions drug-induced, her arms beckoning him over, the curve of her shoulder peeking out from his shirt. He had wanted her the moment he had seen her. And finally, after months of agonizing, after weeks of treacherous dreams and images, after years of agony, he decided to damn the entirety of his life to hell. And his fingers ran a quick path over her shoulders, tugging at the violet straps of her nightgown, forcing the material away from her skin, exposing the snow that had haunted his dreams, until it fluttered to their feet, like the gentle descent of butterfly wings. Leaving Blair white, willing, and nude. Blair gasped soundly as a sudden chill met her bare nipples, her arms reaching backwards to wrap around Chuck's neck as his lips pressed tenderly against her shoulder. When the heat from his palms nearly scorched the skin at her abdomen, Blair's lids drifted closed, her mouth releasing a tiny moan as a single finger traced down her spine. She shivered, hissed as Chuck's palms cupped the cheeks of her ass, hands roving over the softened skin as his teeth scraped tiny lovebites at her neck. When his hands roamed over her backside, she felt a hardened and portruding heat press against her ass, her body stretching dreamily as Chuck's nose buried into her hair, one palm traveling across the skin to meet a cold and aching breast. She moaned his name loudly, eyes tightened shut as Chuck's palm engulfed the entire mound, the other wound in the curls at her back as she breathed short and rapid breaths. Slowly, she turned around, gazing up at Chuck as he found himself breathless at the light in her eyes. Quickly, his clothes joined the growing pile at their feet, hands desperate and unwilling to spend another useless moment. When she looked upon the glorious body of the man who would claim her, the tangle of dark curls at his chest leading to a swollen and aching manhood, she barely had had time to utter a word before his palms had caught at the underside of her thighs, pressing her white breasts against his chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist and plunged her tongue into his mouth. She felt the trunk of her tree meet her back as he hungrily ravaged her neck, her fingers tugging at his hair as he took an entire porcelain breast into his mouth, Blair's open moans leading one palm to burn the heat of her upper thigh. All rational thought fled from her mind, and all she could feel was the swirl of Chuck's tongue around her breast as he took what was rightfully his. When he realized her imminent discomfort, he forced their bodies to sink to the cold earth below them, Blair falling below his body as he braced himself upon his arms to catch sight of his ever-beloved temptress before him. Blair before him, her skin gleaming white against the green of the earth. Blair before him, open, alive, and willing. And he felt the entirety of his lungs collapse at the utter invitation of it all. His eyes traveled from the length of her legs to the triangle of dampened darkness at the juncture of her thighs, up her stomach, to the heavy spill of her breasts, up to the glorious chocolate orbs that stared up at him in fascination. And then, he couldn't restrain his ravenous hunger any longer. He pressed his skin against hers, groaning deeply as a deep-rooted fire coursed through his veins at the sensation of their heated flesh meeting. Blair's palms pressed against the blades of Chuck's back, her head tossed back in pure agony as Chuck's face buried against her neck. She felt him pull away immediately; her eyes filled with a hazy confusion as Chuck's face was filled with ill-placed apprehension. She saw the muscles of his throat work, saw the way his mouth trembled as he hovered over her, his hands holding her thin and bare waist. "I promised myself I would never touch you." A sense of need overcame Blair at that moment; furiously, she lifted herself up, gripping at his hands at her waist and flipping them over, so that she was the one on top, and he, a shocked Chuck below her. And then, she sank into him, eyes shut tight at the initial penetration. Chuck's hands found her waist, lowering her and directing her to shed the slight discomfort. His length was far greater than she ever could have imagined; even in her most passionate of dreams, the expectation of his length had never been as fulfilling. When he was fully inside her, his palms rounded at her ribcage as Blair arched herself backwards, hair falling down her back in a riveting curtain as Chuck urged his hips upward. Even with her position, Blair cried out freely at the mixture of pain and pleasure, Chuck's upper body propelling forward to meet her lips in a lip-bruising kiss of silent forgiveness as they rocked against each other. Eyes still shut, he lay back down, Blair's gasps the only sound he could hear as their hips met in a slow rhythm, one hand meeting the soaked underside of her curls. He moaned quietly as his fingers found a curved breast, fingers tugging downward at the supple skin as Blair tossed her head backwards in pure ecstasy. Quickly, he flipped them over once again, lips pressing firmly against Blair's as her legs bent easily, Chuck's palm at her ass as hers met around his neck in a tender gesture. He drove into her without abandon, Blair's loud approval urging him on, palms scorching against her breasts, her chest, her abdomen, her backside, any inch of her skin that wasn't already quivering, bodies slick and slippery. Gasps, moans, grunts, and the rustling of the leaves below her body became the only sounds they could hear, the overwhelming heat threatening to engulf their bodies in a fiery ending. Her legs refused to cross at his backside, and he and met her frantic thrusts with desperation, his back dripping with droplets of sweat that were identical to the ones at the back of her neck. When she felt herself begin to reach the highest of heavens, and his hips rammed furiously into her core, she caught her breath, catching sight of a bright whiteness beneath her lids. "I promised myself I would never touch you." And with one final surge into her body, and a hot stream of liquid running down her thighs, she melted with his promise.
Добавлено (11.09.2011, 21:49) --------------------------------------------- She was absolutely intoxicated by him. That would seem to be the only logical conclusion as to why she just couldn't keep her eyes off him. They had retreated into the dark wood of the kitchen, the sheer robe he had swept off her body earlier covering her frame once again. He had tossed a navy-shaded bathrobe from a nearby closet over himself, hands rummaging through a few raised cupboards, his back facing her form currently sitting atop the kitchen table. Her head tilted to the side, one side of the robe revealing a bare shoulder as she regarded the man before her. If someone had ever told her that would abandon all she had known in New York for a single man she had known for so little time, she would have waved away at their insanity, provided Serena with an afternoon of laughter, and continued on in her meticulous rituals. Men had entered her life, flooded her with gifts, buried her with lines, and had left her life. But she knew the moment that Chuck had entered her life, the story would play out differently. From the instance he had pressed his lips against her hand at Victrola, he had initiated a catastrophic turn of events that would have her boarding a plan to Venice without a look back, disregarding all she had ever known for a chance encounter with a man who had stolen her heart and her soul. And from the minute she had thrown herself into his arms, the New York wind whipping at their forms, a part deep within her had known it had been the most important decision she had ever made in her life. Her eyes trailed up Chuck's form, the memories of the previous evening allowing her to trace the outline of his body. She had seen it before; she had touched it, explored it, ran slightly shaking fingers over his backside. Even with the robe covering his body, she could make out the wide set of his shoulders leading to a lean waist. The same waist her legs had been wrapped around a few hours before. She was sure long streaks of red would be evident on his backside for days. It was certain; she was absolutely and treacherously intoxicated by him. When Chuck breathed out an audible sigh of relief and turned around swiftly, Blair found the object of his tireless search. A lone pack of cigarettes, a bit crumbled around the edges, but still in usable shape, stood proudly in his grasp, before he pulled out a solitary stick and effortlessly lit the end. She watched the end brighten red, glow bright, before it dulled immediately as a cloud of smoke joined their company. Usually, the stench of cigarettes would be the most evident turn-off for her. She had been with numerous men who had been friendly with the act of smoking, and she was sure the nasty habit had been one of the main causes for a break-up. However, watching Chuck's eyes slowly regard her, arms folded and a spray of curls peeking out from beneath the robe, before those full lips pursed slightly to wrap around the end of the cigarette, was doing… odd things to her. Mainly, there was a familiar heat building, and she crossed her legs demurely, licking her lips. Chuck's eyes watched Blair, her legs dangling from the edge of the island tabletop in the center of the kitchen. The sheer white robe that had graced his fingers in parting a few hours earlier had, quite wretchedly, found its way to shield her most lovely features from his viewing pleasure. He breathed the deep taste of the tobacco into his lungs, allowing the overwhelming feel to delve deep into his chest, as Blair's legs crossed easily atop the tabletop. Now, that simply would not do. He took small and measured steps towards her, watching her eyes visibly blacken with every step as he neared her figure. When he finally stood a few inches away from her, an amused smirk reached his lips as she pulled the cigarette from between his fingertips, and took a lengthy drag of the stick. And then, at the moment, he wasn't sure if there was ever a more erotic sight than a nearly nude Blair, her pink nipples evident through the thin material of her robe, her eyes identical to black pearls, as her lips curled around the end of the stick, releasing an unadulterated dance of smoke from between two sensual, rouge-shaded lips. When his eyes became black, and his smirk slowly disappeared, she smiled wickedly, keeping her legs crossed as she lay back against the marble countertop, arms extending from her body, the lit cigarette still dangling from between two long fingers, her back to the smooth surface. His fingers cleverly found the tie of the robe, releasing the fabric from its confines until it opened without hesitation, revealing a white body nearly quivering with yearning. He released a shaky sigh, his two index fingers running down her body as his eyes flicked upward to watch her reaction. The full bottom lip he had worshipped hours earlier caught between her teeth, and her eyelids had drifted shut, thin curls of smoke serenading her hair. His eyes moved downward over a lengthened neck, over aroused nipples, until they reached the tangle of curls at the apex of her thighs. Slowly, he pressed his lips against the pulse point at her neck, sensing the shudder escaping her lips. He lifted his lips upward until they breathed against her ear, the warmth making her whimper for him. "Open your legs." Coal eyes met his. He saw the muscles of her throat work, saw the full bottom lip be released from its cage. Slowly, his lips ran a free trail over her jawbone, down to the underside of her left breast. His nose skimmed over the tender skin before the most gentle of kisses was granted to the milk skin. Blair's eyes rolled backwards at the intimate gesture, her fingers delving into his scalp to tangle with the locks, the cigarette still dangling between two fingertips. His arms braced against her thighs as his nose breathed in the scent down her body, pausing slightly at her abdomen. "Wider." He heard her quiet moan, her desperate need as her thighs moved apart from beneath his palms. His eyes flitted shut, his nose continuing the heated trail over her abdomen until the scent changed considerably, his nose meeting evident dampness. Her fingers froze their trek. He gulped soundly, pressing his nose to the sensitive flesh, ears trained to hear Blair's throaty gasp from above him. "You smell like heaven." The muscles beneath his palms began to quiver, and when he looked up, Blair sat up immediately, propelling his body backwards until his back pressed against the wall. Her fingers clawed at his bathrobe, tugging the fabric away from his body, as he did the same to the offending piece of fabric covering her own form. His arms immediately wrapped around her petite figure, her lower back digging into the kitchen table as his lips overwhelmed her. She gasped against his mouth at the feel of his prominent need for her pressing so harshly against her. Her body twisted around fully, palms grasping at the edge of the table, so that her front was to the table, his large, swollen, aching member pressing against her from behind. His heated hands ran a fiery path over her body, over her breasts, palming the sensitive skin until it grew red and raw. Her head lolled backward, her arms wrapping around his back as his teeth pressed against her porcelain neck. One hand traveled from an engorged nipple down her abdomen to the sensitive soaked folds between her legs, and she moaned loudly, her eyes beginning to see vivid colors from beneath her lids. "Blair," she heard him breathe, felt the rasp of his voice against her skin. As much as he was craving sweet release, they had remained unprotected the first time, and he didn't want to scare her away. "Blair, we should…" "Taken care of," she breathed wildly. "It's all taken care of." Slowly, he surged into her, sliding himself long and hard into her body until she fell forward, palms tight against the edge of the table. He remained frozen to allow her time to adjust, one arm wrapping over her breasts and around her chest, nose pressed into her hair as the sounds of their breathless gasps became the only presence in the room. Blair's head rolled backwards, eyes squeezed shut and palms still squeezing the tabletop, before Chuck attached his lips to the point below her ear. Then, he began to move slowly, ever so slowly, before increasing his pace, power, and frequency with each thrust, as they bucked wildly against the kitchen table, the cigarette long gone agains the floor tiles. Finally, when she let out a free gasp and fell forward against the table, still and unmoving, he felt himself reach the highest of heavens, and his palms locked at her hips, holding her still, with his release sweeping into her with the ferocity of long-forgotten lovers. He remained inside of her, body hanging over hers, nose pressed against her hair, sweat-soaked chest pressed against her back, her breasts crushed against the cool marble, as they allowed their breathing cycles to return to normal. His lips moved to offer a hasty kiss below her ear lobe, and she turned her head, allowing the two to exchange a softer, more prolonged kiss full of promise, and, most certainly, the imminent future.
Rated: M - English - Romance/Drama - Chuck & Blair Summary: Forced into an arranged marriage by Queen Victoria, Duke Charles Bass was determined to make his new wife miserable. What he didn't count on was falling in love with her. In a gamble for her heart he will do anything to woo and win her. B/C Historical Статус: завершен Ссылка на фик: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5540751/1/My_Love_My_Enemy
Quotes
Chuck leaned back lazily in the carriage his eyes taking in the beauty before him that was now his according to law. "Thank God, that display is over." "That display was our wedding," Blair said frostily. "So it was," Chuck said with a short laugh. "I am surmising from your lack of willingness to seal our wedding vows with a kiss that our marriage was not of your choice? Perhaps you had another in mind?" Chuck found himself suddenly very interested in her response, part of him quite irrationally hoping that there had been no others. Blair cast him a look, confused by the sudden bland tone of his voice. She shook her head. "It's nothing like that. I simply do not want a husband, especially not one that has been forced on me. "Why not?" Chuck asked, even though he understood exactly what she meant. Yet for some reason he could not help being somewhat offended that she did not wish to marry him. He was a Duke, after all, and with his fortune he knew he was quite the catch. "I refuse to be owned like a piece of furniture, to submit to another man's will. I will not be treated as a vessel for some man's lust!" Blair exclaimed angrily. "This is the way you see it? You believe that the art of love is nothing more than an act of submission? Chuck eyes lingered over Blair petite and rounded figure lecherously. "I have so much to teach you," he rasped. Blair flushed, the color rushing to her cheeks. "I hardly believe this is polite conversation." Chuck pulled her roughly to him, catching her lips in his. It wasn't the sweet and tender kiss of an adoring groom to his bride. It was a passionate, hot, ravaging kiss the kind he had wanted to take from her the second she had denied him his kiss in the cathedral. For several moments she did not resist, too shocked to do anything but part her lips under his onslaught. With a groan he deepened the kiss, pulling her even closer to him. His tongue swept her mouth, claiming her in some way as his. For a brief moment Blair let him, as her senses reeled and her body melted into his in the most disturbing way. His tongue danced over hers, tantalizing and teasing hers and she felt a glorious flooding of heat through her entire body. Suddenly realizing what she was doing her spine stiffened and her hand lashed out, slapping at him. "If you wanted to play rough you just had to say so," Chuck said breathlessly, his eyes dark and dilated with passion.
****
Chuck strode into the room confidently, his dark purple dressing robe grazing the lush carpet. He shut the door behind him, his eyes raking her hungrily, the way her slender figure was silhouetted against the transparency of her negligee. Angered that he should see her this way, her voice rang out harshly. "Why are you here? "I should have thought that would have been obvious," Chuck replied with a smirk. "If you think you are welcome in my bedroom you are very much mistaken," she said with a toss of her head. Chuck would have moved closer to her, but she chose that moment to raise her arm and level her pistol directly at his privates. Standing very still Chuck regarded his new wife with dancing eyes. This was a situation he had never in his wildest thoughts imagined would happen and it amused him to no end. Blair looked at him with surprised eyes, she had expected him to rail at her, curse her very presence and threaten her, but instead he looked as if he would burst out laughing at any second. Chin up she glared at him, her pistol never wavering. "I may have been forced to marry you to bolster your reputation and make you presentable at court. But if you think that you can use me like any of your other many mistresses you are very much mistaken," Blair said spitefully. "I will treat you as my wife, which is what you are," Chuck answered with a grin. "This means I expect to have you naked and writhing underneath me before this night is over." "That is something that will never happen, and if you ever want to be able to perform for any of your mistresses again, you would do best to exit that door the way you came," Blair said coldly, her eyes blazing. "You are my wife, Blair and the law says I may use your body for my pleasure and to ensure the succession," Chuck said with amusement as he moved closer to his bride. She came at him in anger, the pistol steady in her hand. "Must I make this plainer to you, my Lord. You disgust me and I hate you. If you come one step closer I will shoot you." "Chuck." Blair stared at him dumfounded. "If you are going to shoot me at least call me by my name." "Fine," Blair snapped. "Chuck, if you touch me I will not hesitate to shoot you. I have no wish to be branded a murderer, which is why I won't kill you, but I will make sure you never have a chance to use your…" she stared directly at his crotch, color flooding her face. "Equipment, again" she finished lamely. Blair waited for him to advance on her, attempt to wrestle the pistol away from her, but instead to her astonishment he threw his head back and laughed, his laughter echoing throughout the room. "Quite magnificent! Perhaps the Queen did know what she was thinking when she decided to give you to me," he mused out loud. Considering the lust he suddenly had for his new bride, he was willing to bet this had all been a part of the Queen's plan. Blair fascinated him like no other. She was unique, something entirely special from any women he had ever met, and already he found himself if not falling in love with her at least desiring her more than he had ever desired another women in his life. Changing tactics he slowly seated himself on the bed, warily watching her trigger finger. "I have never been in love and I never expect to be, but I suddenly find myself wanting you with a passion I have never quite experienced," he said honestly. "Have you ever been in love, Blair?" Blair stared at him a moment, trying to make coherence of this very odd situation. "No," she said shortly. "And I certainly don't expect to fall in love with the most notorious womanizer in all of London." "I have always thought my falling in love was an absolute impossibility, but for the first time I have doubts," Chuck said with unusual sincerity. "Feel free to murder those doubts, because I can guarantee I shall never fall in love with you," Blair spat out.
****
Chuck's eyes twinkled at the way she could praise and insult him in one breath. "What about when I kissed you? Did it disgust you? Was there nothing you enjoyed?" Blair glanced away, if possible her cheeks growing redder. "It was terrible, like kissing a slobbering fish," she lashed out. Chuck closed the distance between them. Then you must give me another chance to redeem myself. Reaching out he gently lifted her chin. "Give me just a taste, Blair and I will leave you for the night. Close your eyes," he commanded. "You promise you will leave?" "You have my word." Chuck stepped closer to Blair, until their faces were mere centimeters apart. "Close your eyes," he murmured huskily. She did so warily, standing as straight as a rod, her lips pursed. He chuckled and leaning in ever so softly he settled his mouth over hers. Her lips were as soft as rose petals and immediately he felt his body tighten and react. She was the sweetest and most desirable woman he had ever kissed. Blair tentatively opened her mouth as he sought entrance, his tongue ravished her slowly, pulsing in and out, curling to stroke the roof of her mouth with exquisitely light strokes, until she moaned and leaned into his arms. Gently he pulled away, leaving her wanting more. Her fingers unconsciously came up to touch her now swollen lips. He noticed her hands were trembling, her eyes big and uncertain and he was beyond pleased at her reaction. He had no allusions that with time her body would be his. "Enjoy your last night of slumber alone. For tomorrow we sleep as husband and wife." With a smoldering look that hinted at something dark and sensual Chuck left the room. Sensation licking at her belly and pooling between her thighs, Blair lay awake long after he had left, suddenly very afraid that she might have made a losing bet.
****
Chuck did not sleep that night. All night long he lay awake thinking of his new wife. It wasn't just her beauty that kept him awake or the aching lust he felt for her, but rather the audacity and courageousness of her plan. That she had pointed a gun at him and felt no hesitation at shooting him to protect her honor fascinated him. He had never known a woman before that did not want him…at least in some way. His wealth, his good looks and his title had ensured that he was constantly chased and enticed by women of all classes. Yet it was his wife, the one woman decreed by church and state as his, that wanted nothing to do with him. Puzzled and faced with a set of circumstances he had never faced before, his mind refused him sleep. Having learned a great deal about Blair in one day Chuck pondered long and hard on how best to use this knowledge. With gun in hand she had shown bravery and a certain malicious nature that he, unlike so many others, understood completely. Chuck admired the way she had faced him; her hand steady and her smile wicked and taunting. She would have shot him, he was certain, if he had tried to force himself on her. Knowing this made him proud of his new bride and surprisingly made him desire her all the more. Lying in his bed, just on the other side of the door from his wife, was also enough to keep him awake. Never before had he brought a woman into his home. The Duchess's bedchambers had been empty since his mother's death. He had never once contemplated defiling them with any of the many women he dallied with. He always used rented houses and apartments for his romantic entanglements, never bothering to stay more than a few hours at the most. Knowing that a woman, his wife, was just a few steps away filled him with an odd feeling he didn't know how to decipher. Never before had he spent the night with a woman and yet tonight he was, even though a door lay between them. More than that; he had been fully prepared to spend the night - the whole night - with Blair. Sleep in the same bed, not touching, just being close to her. He didn't know what to do with these conflicting thoughts and emotions, so he lay awake until the stars disappeared and morning's light streamed through the windows.
****
Chuck stared at her mouth, her lips, her tongue, his eyes darkening with desire. "It isn't my virginity I am guarding so zealously, rather I am trying to preserve my dignity at not being just another one of your many conquests," she said as she took a bite out of the strawberry. Chuck coughed and reached for his teacup. Scalding his tongue with the hot brew he accepted the welcome distraction as Blair dribbled honey over croissant, spilling some of it on her fingers. Licking them clean, one by one, she peeped at him through her long eyelashes. "I am beginning to think you could never be just another one of my conquests," Chuck said huskily, biting back a groan as Blair took a nibble of her croissant, the honey spilling unto the corner of her mouth. Quickly like a cat, her tongue reached out to catch the drop that hovered over her lips. Imagining Blair's milky white skin covered in droplets of honey that he slowly licked off was enough to set Chuck's head spinning. He reached for his toast with unsteady hands, as she bit into another strawberry.
****
Nate reached out to capture her hand and raising it to his lips he kissed the tips of her fingers, slowly, lingeringly. "I must say that Chuck has managed to ensnare the loveliest jewel in the Queens realm. He should count himself the luckiest of men." Blair smiled at Nate, her face glowing with a light Chuck had never seen before. A new sensation, one he had never experienced until now clawed at his belly. He was filled with an irrational jealousy, one that made him want to punch his best friend of many years in the face. "I don't believe we have been officially introduced," Nate said with a toothy grin. "I am Nathaniel Archibald, Earl of Suffolk, and Chuck's oldest and dearest friend. You can call me Nate. "I think your position in my life needs to be re-evaluated," Chuck said darkly. Blair laughed, the sound like the tinkling of bells brought smiles to both men's faces. "Nate," Blair said softly, "If we are not to stand on ceremony, you really must call me Blair." "Blair," Nate repeated, her name rolling off his tongue like a caress. Chuck stared at Nate coldly, his mind already imaging all sorts of ways to torture his friend. "Isn't there someplace you need to be, Archibald?" "Why? We always breakfast together Saturday mornings. It gives me a chance to live vicariously through your exploits. Some of them are quite legendary. Why there is the one with that young Parisian woman who—" Blair couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips at the look of fury and - to her surprise - embarrassment that crossed her husband's face. Arising abruptly from the breakfast table, Chuck roughly escorted Nate out the door, to the poor man's displeasure.
****
"If you think I will tolerate you dallying with another man, you are very much mistaken. You are my wife and if you will not give me your favors, no other but me shall have them," Chuck said passionately, his mouth twisting into something cruel and bitter. Blair's mouth fell open in wordless shock. Drawing herself up to her full height, her face full of fury, she stared him down. "Unlike the strumpets you are used to dealing with, I would not ever play you false. I know my duty and if you think for one moment that I would give my 'favors,' " she paused as she bit out the word, " to another while married under God and with the Queen's blessing then you have no understanding of the concept of honor." Chuck's face relaxed, his eyes softening like the calm after a storm. "Forgive me, My Love. You are quite right, I fear I am unaccustomed to honor among the women of my acquaintance." Knitting his brow, a sarcastic smile on his face he continued: "I must admit that it does seem a bit of a contradiction that you see faithfulness as a sign of your duty, but dismiss my rights to your body."
****
Entering the room, her stomach rumbling, Blair was startled to find Chuck lying on the settee in the corner of the room, lightly sleeping. Softly she crept towards him, her silk soled shoes silent against the thick carpet. Standing over him, she noticed how tired he looked. His lashes covered bruise like smudges under his eyes. When he was like this she could not help the pull she felt in her heart towards this man, the one she had declared her husband before Queen and country. His firm lips were parted slightly as puffs of air passed though his mouth. Her eyes narrowed in on his lips and her finger reached up to touch her own as she remembered the kiss he had given her last night. The pleasure, the ecstasy, she had known when his lips had brushed hers, his tongue gently stroking her mouth. Never before had she felt such an intimate pleasure. Against her will her hand reached out as if to stroke the perfect angle of his face, before cold reality set in. Shaking her head she stepped back, anxious to break the spell he held over her. "So are you going to steal a kiss or just stare at me adoringly?" Chuck questioned playfully, opening one eye to look at Blair. Blair startled at his words, rushing over to the small table, at least giving the illusion of a barrier between them. "I wasn't staring," she countered angrily. "Then what were you doing?" Chuck asked, languorously sitting up and stretching his long legs. "Ravishing me with your eyes?" Blair, her hand shaking, poured tea from the heavy silver pot into her fragile bone china cup. "I was doing nothing of the sort," She retorted with frustration. "I beg to differ, Sweet Blair," Chuck replied with a knowing smirk as he advanced on her. Falling in behind her chair, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hot breath caressing her delicate lobe. "You have only to whisper the words and my kisses are yours. " "Maybe for now, but what about tomorrow or the next day? I will not be a diversion on your path of debauchery," Blair retorted shortly. Chuck had no answer, all he knew was that in this moment he wanted nothing more than her. He couldn't even think of another woman when she was this close. This disturbed him to such an extent he wanted to run out and sleep with one of his numerous mistresses, just to prove she held no hold over him.
****
Once more she noticed the tiredness etched in his features and the slope of his shoulders. Taking pity on him, knowing his weariness was due not only from lack of sleep but the business deal he had spent all day on according to Mrs. Miller and Rose, she pulled out the chair next to her. "Please join me," she offered kindly. Chuck blinked, thrown completely off guard by her generous hospitality. Staring into her eyes, he searched for an ulterior motive, finding none he sat down gratefully next to his wife. "Have you eaten, Your Grace?" Blair asked as she piled pastries and small cucumber sandwiches on her plate. "Chuck," he said tiredly. "Have you had anything to eat since this morning, Chuck," she said, her voice a silken caress. Chuck shook his head, looking at her mystified. Glancing at the plate of food she had just filled she slid it over to him. "Eat, Chuck," she said with a gentle smile. To his surprise he immediately obeyed her orders. Silently Blair filled another teacup, placing it in front of Chuck. Catching her eyes he communicated his gratefulness. Together they ate in quiet companionship. Filled and satiated Chuck pushed his plate away. Leaning his hand upon his head he studied his wife as she delicately picked at a blueberry scone. "Tell me about your day," he rasped, the words and the concept of actually being interested in a female's day startling and unsettling him. "Are you genuinely interested or is this all a ploy to get me to fall for you?" she asked tartly. "Both," he replied cheekily, with good-natured humor. Blair laughed, the sound one of true amusement. "I have spent the day, Chuck, going through your house and bringing order to chaos—" "Our house," Chuck interrupted with a wink. "Yes, well I can't believe how you have managed to let the house get in such disrepair. This is a beautiful home and it is a shame it has been neglected beyond belief," Blair said taking another sip of tea. Chuck sighed heavily, his eyes dark and angry. "My father never let anything be touched in his lifetime and I have carried out his wishes even after his death. " "But why?" Shrugging lazily, a bitter smile on his lips, he answered defensively: "Too busy wooing the female population, I suppose." Sympathy reared its ugly head against Blair's better judgment. She read between the lines, what Chuck could not say and at that very moment she vowed she would make this a home. She would refurbish and decorate until their house was a haven for entertainment and quiet evenings. She would banish the sadness and grief the rooms carried within them and make them over into something new, something that had no memories. While her and Chuck would never live as husband and wife she could at least give him this. "Tell me about your day?" She asked, cheerfully changing the subject. Once more Chuck looked at her in startled puzzlement. "You really want to know?" he asked disbelievingly. "I do," Blair said with an encouraging nod. "I spent the morning closeted with a number of the Queen's government officials trying to convince them of the necessity of furthering the railways into Scotland. It was very boring and tedious, but I think I finally convinced them that quick transportation to the isles can only benefit the kingdom," Chuck replied, his tone growing more excited with each word. "On top of that I met with some new investors about building a new night club, one to rival the Moulin Rouge in Paris." Blair flushed at the mention of the Moulin Rouge. As a properly reared young lady she wasn't supposed to know such places did exist, but she had never been a proper young lady. She had heard that not only did the dancers wear short skirts, but they lifted them in a dance called the Can-Can. "I am not sure such a place would be appropriate for London," she replied stiffly. Chuck laughed, "That is where you are wrong. The nightlife in London is sadly lacking and I have a feeling that something of this nature would take off immensely. After all; gentlemen need a place to bring their mistresses." Blair rose from the table angrily. "I suppose this is just the sort of place you will patronize with your many mistresses." A lazy smile spread across Chuck's lips as his eyes danced with devilry. "I suppose it is." "If you will excuse me, I am afraid I have a lot of work to do in preparation for the ball tonight," Blair said stiffly, her eyes flashing as she left the room. Chuck lounged back in his chair, filled with a heady sense of happiness. He had made his wife jealous and the thought filled him with delight. He had never doubted he had a chance at earning her love, but to know that she could be so easily provoked into jealousy gave him hope that soon she would be his both body and soul.
****
Turning around she was startled to find Chuck staring, his eyes hot and admiring. "There will be no woman that can hold a candle to you tonight, Blair. I don't think I have ever seen such beauty," Chuck said with awe. Used to continually paying extravagant compliments to the women he constantly wooed he found himself surprised that he actually meant this one. Although he had seen Blair at teatime and had found her lovely and desirable then it didn't compare to what he felt now. If possible she seemed to grow more beautiful with every moment he spent in her company and the very thought scared and thrilled him at the same time. Blair swallowed dryly as she took in Chuck's appearance. He was so handsome in his black suit, so elegantly debonair that she found herself at a loss for words. As if he sensed her discomfort Chuck smiled mischievously at her. Distracted from her thoughts she barely noticed him pull from behind his back a long, flat leather jewel case. "A present for you to wear tonight," he said, bowing with a flourish as he handed her the box. Eyes growing wide with surprise, Blair slowly opened the box. What she saw inside took her breath away. Nestled among the purple velvet was a flawless diamond necklace shaped like flowers, matching earrings and a bracelet completed the set. Never having seen anything so beautiful and certainly never expecting to own anything so expensive Blair felt tears prick at her eyelids. "Do you like it?" Chuck asked in a bland tone as if he didn't care in the least how she felt about his gift. With a single finger Blair stroked the diamond petals in the necklace. "It is exquisite," she replied softly. "Just like my bride," Chuck said with sincerity as he moved behind her to unfasten her pearl choker. Motioning for Rose, he handed her the now neglected necklace. Rose took it from him, placing it back unto the vanity as she smiled glowingly at the two of them.
"You are dismissed for the evening, Rose" Chuck said with a wink in her direction. Curtsying, the girl rushed from the bedroom; anxious to share the romantic scene she had just witnessed with the staff. Blair shivered as she felt Chuck's warm fingers caress the nape of her neck as he draped the heavy diamond necklace around her delicate throat. Instead of moving away he stayed behind her, his hands lightly caressing the curve of her neck and the soft roundness of her shoulders. Blair quivered under his touch, feeling hot and cold all at once. Leaning in he kissed her shoulder, his lips soft and gentle as the touch of a rose. "Beautiful," he whispered reverently. Afraid of her response, her susceptibility to his touch, Blair pulled away and turned to face him. "Thank you, Chuck" she said with stiff formality. As if he understood her attempt to cover up her vulnerability he smirked, his eyes sparkling with hidden laughter. "My Love, doesn't my gift deserve the slightest reward? Perhaps a kiss, or something a bit more intimate," Chuck hinted with barely controlled lust. "Of course," Blair said with a devious smile. Stepping close to him she embraced him in the friendliest of hugs. For just a second her lips hovered dangerously close to his before she turned to kiss him perfunctorily on the cheek, like a respectful daughter would give to her father. Disappointment flaring in his eyes at her act Chuck was tempted to seize her and kiss her properly; like a woman of her fire and beauty should be kissed, but good sense won out. To treat her such like would just bring out her anger and ire and while that fascinated and turned him on to an unbelievable extent, tonight was a night for wooing and not brute force. So instead he put his arms around her, his hand reaching up to cup the side of her face. Leaning in he placed tiny kisses along her jaw line and the curve of her neck and to his delight he felt her lean into him. Blair's eyes fluttered shut as she breathed in his clean scent. Clenching her fists at her sides she forced them not to reach out and touch his clean shaven cheeks, pulling him into a kiss. As she melted into him, her curves softening against his hardness, she felt desire and a wish to forever this way in his embrace. Feeling her body fit into his as if they were made as one he swooped down to capture her lips. For the first time in his life he miscalculated, trying to take more than what his partner was willing to give. Scared at her weakness and the ease at which she so easily fell into the enemy's arms, Blair pulled away. Chest heaving she took several steps back leaving nothing but heated air between them. Anger flashed across Chuck's face only to be quickly replaced by disinterest. He tried not to be hurt at her rejection of his kiss, but it stung. Bitter eyes raked her, his mouth contorting into an ugly frown. "It seems we have a return to the virginal theatrics of our wedding night," he said with a coldness that chilled Blair to her very core. "You are my wife, Blair and you promised you would give our wager a chance." Blair's head rose in affront. "I will not be kissed like one of your common strumpets because you have deigned to give me a gift for services that are supposed to be rendered." "My 'common strumpets', as you so disdainfully call them, would never have received a gift like this. This diamond set belonged to my mother and only to my wife would I ever pass it down. While looking properly chastised Blair refused to give in. "My kisses cannot be bought. They must be earned. I shall be no man's mistress." "Obviously," Chuck said shortly. "Because for a gift such as this a mistress would spread her legs and offer to give me whatever exotic pleasure I wished for." "Do you really want a bride you can buy with a diamond necklace?" Blair hissed. "If so take me now and have it over with. I will lay here and think of all the ways I hate you and never again will you be welcome in my bedroom. I shall be as cold to you as the snow and ice in the Russian tundra." Chuck shook his head, trying to clear his anger. This was not the way he had wanted this evening to go. Instead of wooing her with his gift and his kisses he had somehow managed to insult her. "The thought of you brought to our bed as a bridal sacrifice does little to appeal to me." Chuck's voice deepened, grew husky, as he continued: "When I bed you it will be because without me you live in torture and the thought of my lips, my tongue on your body are all you can think about." "That will never happen." Blair breathed. "I hate you and there will never come a time that I will willingly fall for your cheap tricks. I will not be bought." Taking a deep breath Chuck said slyly, "But you already have been. Your parents sold you to me with the Queens blessing. Don't think I am unaware of the clause in our marriage contract that allows a son of our union to inherit your father's title and estate." "That is different," Blair argued, not quite able to hide the distress in her eyes. "Is it really? Sweet Blair. Bought and sold you are already mine. For now I enjoy this dance, this wager between us, but don't ever forget that you are my wife. " Blair dug her nails deep into the palms of her hands. "So you admit you will not uphold your end of the bargain if I don't fall in love with you? You will still press for your marital rights?" Chuck smiled deviously, "No, I will uphold our wager because I have no doubt that in time you will love me. No woman has ever been able to resist me." "Then Your Grace, you have met the rarest of women because I can guarantee I will never love you," Blair said with a toss of her head, even as she felt the gravest of misgivings. "We shall see, My Love," Chuck replied with a maddening smugness that made Blair's teeth ache.
****
As soon as the dance ended Nate was there to take Chuck's place. Blair smiled up at Nate, relieved to be out of Chuck's arms and in the safety of someone who didn't make her feel such intense and mixed emotions. Settling in Lord Archibald's arms, she tried to replicate what she felt with Chuck, to somehow prove that what she had experienced with him was not anything special and could be recreated with any other young man. To her extreme fury she felt nothing when she danced with Nate, no tingling, no heart palpitations, nothing. If looks could maim Lord Archibald would be filled with holes the way Chuck was staring at him right now. Hot and blinding jealousy burned in his chest as he watched Blair gracefully dance in his best friend's arms. Heading to the bar, he ordered a glass of scotch and drained it in one gulp. The liquid scalded his stomach, but did little to erase the tension he felt in every muscle in his body.
Добавлено (03.01.2012, 23:12) --------------------------------------------- Chuck entered the room stealthily a huge grin upon his face and champagne glasses in hand. Upon catching sight of Blair dressed severely her beautiful long hair constrained to a single braid; his grin faded to a look of extreme discontent. "You look like a nun," he said unpleasantly. "I'm sorry if you find what I am wearing offensive," Blair replied sweetly. Chuck set the glasses down on one of the bedside tables. "It does actually offend me," he retorted with a scowl. "From now on I expect to see you wear the night clothes suitable for a wife newlywed to her husband. And I want to see your hair hanging loose." "And what if I refuse?" Blair asked with a courage she did not feel. Crossing the room to her side, he cupped her face none to gently in his hands. "Then our wager is forfeit and I take what the law already says is mine." Blair blanched, fear eating away at her insides. She thought of Chuck seeing her all but naked, his eyes devouring her flesh, and she felt heat rise in her belly like an inferno. "Why does it matter? You have promised not to bed me unless I fall in love with you," Blair said shortly, hiding the way her knees were shaking. "And I won't fall in love with you if you don't put some effort into our wager," Chuck explained patiently. "With your body you have power over me. You know I want you, use this knowledge to your advantage." A dozen emotions flitted across Blair face as she considered what he was saying. He was offering her away to get close to him on her terms, perhaps even captivate him enough that his lust would turn to love. If she didn't know any better she would believe that deep down he truly wanted to fall in love with her, the way he was helping her with his wager. "All right," she said softly, color rushing into cheeks. "Tomorrow I dress for my husband, but that doesn't give you the right to take advantage." Chuck laid his hand over his heart," I swear to only take what you offer." Sitting down on the settee he patted the place next to him. "Sit with me Blair." "Must I?" she asked nervously, afraid at being so close to him in such a state of undress. She greatly feared he wore nothing under his heavy velvet robe. Giving her his most innocent smile that somehow managed to still look wicked; he held out a flute of champagne for her. "I only wish to talk of our future. One in which you fall madly in love with me." Blair rolled her eyes, but still seated herself at his side. Taking a deep breath she steeled herself for what she was about to say. "I do not want to love you." Chuck smiled at her wolfishly. "Of course you do. With your fiery and sensual nature only someone like me could ever please you in bed. Besides it is just a matter of time. I am your husband and it is only natural that you will fall in love with me." "Then it is only natural that you will fall in love with me allowing me to win our wager. Then you'll be forced to take your lust elsewhere." Blair replied, taking a deep drink of her champagne and all but draining the glass. Chuckling, Chuck finished his drink. "Spend the day with me tomorrow." "I will be working all day on repairing and refurbishing," she paused for a moment, at the foreignness of what she was about to say, "Our house." "Then let me help. It has been decades since I haunted the rooms here. Give me a tour, show me your handiwork, your plans," Chuck replied as he poured himself another glass of champagne and refilled Blair's flute. Blair looked at him with concern, thoughts of what Rose and Mrs. Miller had told her of Chuck's childhood running through her head. "Are you sure that is what you want, Chuck? It really isn't necessary if you would prefer I handle all the changes and refurbishments. Chuck looked her in the eyes steadfastly. "It would be my pleasure to see our home through your eyes." Pleased, the champagne bubbles already racing through her blood, she leaned back into the settee. More comfortable than she had been in days she let the alcohol wash over her. His eyes darkening into pinpricks of desire Chuck leaned forward to gently cup her face. Heady with champagne, Blair leaned into the warmth and strength of his hand. "With your permission, may I kiss you?" Chuck asked, surprising himself at his own gentleness and courtliness towards his wife. He wasn't used to asking a woman permission to kiss her. At her wary look he rushed to reassure her. "Nothing more than a kiss and you can stop me at any time, I swear." Floating in the warmth and dizzying effects of the champagne, Blair leaned into Chuck. She remembered the sweetness and passion of their earlier kisses and the pleasure they wrought from deep within; and she wanted to experience those sensations once more. Closing her eyes, she reached out to brush her rose petal lips against his.
Chuck - to his disgust - felt himself tremble at her touch. With her lips and tongue she nibbled softly at the corners of his mouth sending shivers up and down his spine. A long slow kiss followed, then another and then her tongue was in his mouth tentatively touching his. Her kiss while innocent and naive was the most erotic and desirable kiss he had ever experienced. He wanted to rip her burlap sack of a nightgown off and take her right there on the floor of their bedroom. Instead he groaned and cursed the wager he had made. Blair's nervousness and tension eased as she tilted her head to get better access to his lips. Her hands reached out to touch his shoulders and he put his arms around her and pulled her closer. Her breasts grazed his chest and she fought the tender ache to rub them against him. Chuck could no longer hold back, taking over he deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking her possessively. Locking his arms tightly around her, his kiss grew more and more passionate. Blair swooned in his arms, her body growing soft and pliant in his embrace. Caught up in his heavenly kisses she didn't even notice when one of his hands strayed to the buttons on the front of her nightgown. Unbuttoning first one and then another button his finger stroked the silky skin of her neck and the hollow of her throat. Murmuring in protest as his lips left hers, she moaned as his mouth laid tiny little butterfly kisses down the curve of her neck. Pulling at the neck of her nightgown Chuck bared one perfect creamy shoulder. The cold air of the room hitting her shoulder was what finally woke her from the spell he had put on her. She couldn't, would not, be another one of his many conquests no matter how delicious he made her feel. With a small cry, she pushed him away. With tears in her eyes, she faced him, afraid of what he might do. Chuck's, his mind in a fog, reached over once more to draw her into his arms, to lose himself once more to her sweetness, only to have her shove him away harder. "Chuck!" She said frantically. Opening his eyes, he searched her face. Seeing her stricken eyes were the only clues he needed. He had frightened her, gone too far too fast, but he hadn't been able to help it. What he felt with her was something so different, so special. He wanted too bury himself in her, surround himself with her essence. "Forgive me, I got carried away." Twining his fingers in hers, he raised her hand gently to his lips. Blair blinked back tears, his soft and kind tone made her want him to kiss her even more. Looking away, she swallowed hard. "I…am sorry. I just can't." Chuck looked at the floor, suddenly very unsure of himself and his skills in the bedroom. Never before had a woman rejected him. "Why? You enjoyed it. I know you did," he asked, a barely there hint of vulnerability in his voice. "I did…I just can't be another conquest for you. I need, no, I want more than that from this marriage. I don't want what my parents had; a cold marriage where my father sought his pleasures elsewhere." There was so much she wanted to say, so much more her heart desired. For the first time it hit her that maybe she wanted more of this marriage then she had first dreamed possible. Maybe she did want his love, to be his one and only. Chuck's eyes widened in astonishment, her honesty striking him right to the core. "I am beginning to think you could never be simply another conquest." What he failed to tell her was what he was terribly afraid of; that he might already be half in love with her. It was entirely possible she could win her wager, but would he win his? Could there be a happy ever after for them? "I rushed you, next time—." "There will be no next time, Chuck," Blair sighed tiredly. "This isn't going to work. Surely you can see that we are at an impasse." "Tell me you didn't like it - that you didn't want me - and I promise I will never kiss you again." Blair wanted to lie, to tell him he would only ever be an enemy to her, but she found she couldn't. Not when he looked at her with such pleading eyes. Staring at his powerful chest, remembering how it had felt to have his arms safely around her while he kissed her was enough to bring heat to her chest and cause desire to pool between her thighs. She couldn't lie, not about this. "I liked it, for a little while, until reality stepped in." Letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, Chuck smiled with relief. "Then we will try again tomorrow." "Tomorrow?" Blair questioned faintly. "And every night until one of us wins our wager." Blair stared at him angrily. The thought of playing this dance nightly, him manipulating her with his body until she had no choice but to give in infuriated her. In that moment she hated him and most importantly hated herself for being so susceptible to him. "There will be no more displays of this nature in the future," Blair retorted. "We are finished." Chuck set his jaw tightly, his brows furrowing with frustration as he guarded his heart. "We're not finished until I say we are finished."
****
Blair awakened slowly, unaware at first of where she was. She felt warm, almost as if she was surrounded by a heavenly cloud of heat. Snuggling her head deeper into the downy pillows, she was surprised to find hardness instead of softness. Upon stretching her limbs she found that they seemed to be entwined with something heavy and solid. Comfortable, she drowsily fluttered one eye open to find herself staring straight up into Chuck's smirking face. With a squeak of horror she sat up, frantically attempting to detach herself from Chuck only to find her fingers fisted in his satin pajama top and her legs firmly wrapped around his. "How dare you? Take your hands off me," she sputtered angrily. "I believe it is you who should unhand me," Chuck said coolly "Move over, move over!" she exclaimed, removing her hand from his pajama shirt and unfurling her legs from his. Chuck's chest rumbled with repressed laughter. "You're on my side of the bed." Blair's gaze searched the bed suspiciously, her cheeks pinking when she realized that Chuck had spoken the truth. Scooting away from him, she put as much distance between them as she could. "I didn't realize…I didn't mean to molest—" "I'm sure you didn't," Chuck replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Although I must admit, I enjoyed every minute." Arising from the bed, Chuck stretched and Blair couldn't help the way her eyes were drawn to his long lean figure. Swallowing thickly, she quickly looked away as Chuck caught her looking at him. "Keep looking at me like that and I am not sure I will be able to keep my hands of you, wager or not," Chuck said throatily Hopping out of bed, Blair grabbed the velvet dressing gown Rose had laid out for her on one of the wing back chairs the night before. Making her way to her vanity table she turned to look at Chuck hesitantly. "Thank you for keeping your word and not taking advantage of me." Blair smiled at Chuck shyly, her heart suddenly feeling light for the first time. That he had behaved like a perfect gentleman gave her hope for their relationship. She never would have expected him to keep his hands to himself, to not take advantage of her and pursue his rights as husband. His actions filled her with a happiness she had not expected to find in her marriage. To her surprise she realized she had enjoyed waking up in his arms. Never before had she felt so protected and safe. It was just like she had always dreamed it would be when, as a young girl, she had fantasized about waking up in the arms of her husband. Only in those dreams the husband was someone she loved and cherished. While Chuck would never be that husband, perhaps they could have a friendship of sorts. Maybe if they became friendly enough, they could reach a point where the wager would not be necessary and they could just learn to live in harmony going their separate ways. For she knew with certainty that Chuck would never fall in love with her. He was not the type to ever be caught in love's trap and she had given up on love the minute her father had told her of her arranged marriage. Looking at his wife, Chuck felt warmth seep into the dark recesses of his heart. Returning her smile with his own, he felt a happiness he had not previously known. Suddenly uncomfortable he cleared his throat, distracting himself by shrugging his robe on over his pajamas. Pulling a small pocketknife from his pocket, he slit his thumb, dribbling blood over the bed sheets. Blair startled at his act, rushed to his side and yanked the knife away. "Chuck!" she exclaimed, "What on earth are you doing?" At the sight of the blood on the pristine white sheets she swayed on her feet, only to be steadied by Chuck's strong arms. Chuck smirked at her, even though his eyes were deadly serious. "It's bad enough the servants know I spent our wedding night in my own chambers. I won't have them gossiping about your lack of virginity." Shocked, Blair steadied herself and gathering her control she walked over to her vanity table. Pulling out one of her monogrammed linen handkerchiefs, she wrapped it tenderly over his wound. "You didn't have to do that," she said softly, gazing up at him with gratitude. "Yes, I did. I won't have your name maligned. While we may not have consummated our marriage, it is none of the business of the servants and I will tolerate no talk." Chuck put his arm around Blair, pulling her closer. "Blair, you 're trembling. If you are worried about my thumb, you shouldn't be. It only hurt for a second." "It isn't that," she sniffed. "I just appreciate your wanting to protect my reputation." Never would she have expected such a sacrifice from him. She knew that the lack of consummation of their marriage would fall fully on her shoulders, and she would be blamed if ever their wager were exposed. It was a wife's responsibility to be there for her husband, to give in to all his physical demands. To refuse was something so unpardonable she knew she would be damned if ever the truth came out. In shedding his blood on the bed sheets, he had made the servants witness to their supposed consummation, forever preventing them from testifying otherwise in a divorce court. She would never be shamed for refusing her husbands advances. Seeing concern in his eyes at her reaction, the gentle way he held her shaking body, she almost felt guilty that she couldn't be the type of wife he wanted.
"Blair, you have hardly eaten," Chuck stated. "I ate," Blair said defensively. "Not enough to feed a bird. You will need your strength for the task ahead of you today." Chuck frowned as worry for his wife pricked at his heart. Never before had he cared about whether a woman had eaten or not, but for some reason he cared about Blair and her health. For her to eat so little, when she had a great need for energy today, made him nervous. Blair stood rigidly, her stomach all tied in knots. It was true she had hardly eaten anything and she was still hungry, but Chuck somehow managed to get under her skin. He twisted her insides into knots until she felt she needed to get away from him and how he made her feel. "Sit, Blair," Chuck commanded harshly. Still she stood as stubborn as a mule. Sighing, Chuck softened his tone. "My Love, please sit." With a resigned air, Blair sat down stiffly. Chuck searched the table of dishes for something to tempt Blair into eating. Finally, he settled upon a golden and still steaming waffle. Scooping it up onto a plate, he covered it with freshly whipped cream and strawberries. Cutting into it, he speared a cream smothered piece and held it to her lips. "I can feed myself," Blair said contemptuously. "So you can, but why deny me the pleasure?" he asked sweetly. With an exasperated sigh, Blair opened her mouth and let him feed her first one piece and then another until most of the waffle was gone. Never before had she tasted anything so good. Spreading a strawberry with cream, Chuck offered it to her and she bit into it, the juices and cream spilling onto the corner of her mouth. Leaning in as quickly as a cat, Chuck placed his lips over the delicious smear, lapping it up with his tongue. The feel of Chuck's lips and tongue on the sensitive flesh sent hot and cold shivers down Blair's spine. As he pulled away, she found herself yearning for more, wanting him to claim her mouth with his. Suddenly very afraid, she leapt up from the table and with a mumbled excuse she ran from the room. His trousers tight and his breathing heavy, Chuck watched her leave. He was so close he could feel it, but unlike any other woman he had ever known she fought him like he was the very devil. He wanted to kiss and caress her so terribly right then he was almost willing to promise her anything, even give up his mistresses if she would take him into her bed. She was winning their wager, and suddenly he was very afraid that he was about to loose everything.
Surrounded in sumptuous fabrics, Blair picked and discarded colors and textures until she found the exact look she wanted. Furniture was moved into piles to keep and refurbish and those to store away in the attics. Followed around most of the day by Rose and Mrs. Miller, note papers and ink pens in hand, she gave orders like a general going into battle. Having made her way through innumerable drawing and receiving rooms, she at last made it to the ballroom. Stepping through the double doors, she stared in awe at the line of glass French doors along one end and the row of gilded mirrors down the other. Leading out from the French doors were magnificently laid out gardens. The very same ones she could see from outside her bedroom window. Standing in the middle of the room surrounded by mirrors and glass, she felt as if she was at the center of a vast universe of light and greenery. Looking up at the multiple sparkling crystal chandeliers, she tried to imagine the effect of light and mirrors against the darkness of the night. "Is it ever used?" she asked, her voice sounding very small in the large space. Expecting an answer from Rose or Mrs. Miller, she was startled to hear Chuck's voice from behind her shoulder. "Not since my mother's death," Chuck replied walking over to the French doors and looking out at the gardens. Blair walked over to him, her hand lightly touching his shoulder before falling away. "It is almost a tragedy to see such beauty neglected." He turned to look at her, his eyes shadowy and unreadable. Cupping her face gently with one hand, he smoothed her cheek with his thumb delicately as if she was made of the finest porcelain. "Yes, it is." For a second Blair stood still, allowing the touch, almost leaning into it as her eyes fluttered closed. Then, with a small shake of her head almost as if she was waking from a dream, she slowly stepped away. "What was it used for?" she asked lightly starting to walk the perimeter of the room, anything to distract her from the gentleness of his touch and how it set her heart afire. "When my mother was alive there were numerous parties and dances and then, of course, we still practiced the tradition of the Annual Midsummer's Ball. For generations the Bass' always gave a Midsummer's Ball. It was a tradition that died with my mother's death," Chuck replied with guarded disinterest as he watched Blair's progress around the ballroom." The mood of the room suddenly darkening, Blair slowly spun into a dance, her skirts unfurling around her like rose petals. "Perhaps it is time to revive the tradition," she said with a hopeful smile. "Bring this room back to life. This place was made for entertaining and dancing and it deserves to be shown for the beauty it is." Through hooded eyes Chuck watched her, his heart filled with conflicting feelings. "It will take a lot of work, Blair. I am not sure I am up to it." Stopping her dance, Blair came to him, placing her hands in his. "Leave it to me. You have a wife now. Let me show you what I can do." "I don't think I need to be reminded I have a wife," Chuck said his heart in his throat. Reaching out, he stroked a dark curl that had fallen loose from its yellow ribbon. "I think, perhaps, a ball to celebrate our wedding would be considered appropriate," Blair said breathily. "Very appropriate," Chuck agreed as he twined the curl around his finger and tugged lightly, pulling her closer. "When is this fete to take place?" Blair knitted her brow, giving the matter some thought, trying very hard to ignore how close she was once more to Chuck. "I believe a month should be enough time to prepare." "Such an industrious wife I have married," Chuck said with a laugh. "Within days you have managed to convert the household staff into your devoted slaves and now you are taking on the house like it is a battle to conquer. Whatever shall I do with you, My Love?" "Use me," she said earnestly, only to turn bright red as she realized the innuendo inherent in her words. "I mean use me to make this a home. Let me make the Bass name known for it's exquisite parties and entertainments. Let me be a wife you can be proud of." Ignoring her obvious mistake, his face became quite serious. "I am proud of you Blair. I could ask for nothing more in a public wife, but I find I want a wife in private as well. " Blair yanked her curl from his grip, agitatedly pacing the room once more. "I can't, I won't, not without love and fidelity." Chuck sighed, "Use me, I know I can make you happy. I can give you pleasure you have never dreamed of." "No, Chuck. Our wager stands." "I won't fail, Blair. I never have," Chuck warned, circling her like a shark coming in for the kill. "I will make you fall in love with me. Make it easier on yourself and give in." Blair lifted her chin stubbornly. "I will never fall in love with you. I can't. Not when I know you will move from my bed to another's whenever the fancy takes you."
****
Blair walked from one painting to the next as Chuck explained their connection to his family name. Walking among them was like strolling through history. She could see who had brought the family honor and those who had almost lost the family name and fortune. Chuck acquainted her with each and every one, taking equal pleasure in showing both the heroes and the dissolute reprobates of the family. Blair had known she was marrying into an old family, but until now she had not realized exactly how old. There were portraits dating back to the sixteenth century. "I am impressed. You know more about your family and it's history then I do about mine," she said with surprise. "I suppose I do," he said with a bitter smile. "I spent a lot of time here when I was a boy. They moved on until they came to the last set of portraits. "My mother," he said of the first. His mother was tall and elegant with dark hair and sparkling eyes. Smiling coyly out of the picture, she was painted without the traditional embroidery or woman's work. Instead she stood by a vase of roses in full bloom. She was lovely and Blair could instantly see where Chuck had inherited his good looks. "She was beautiful." "Yes," he replied tersely, his hand reaching out to touch the edge of the frame. Turning to her, his voice became flirtatious. "The Bass men have always been known for their beautiful wives." Blair could feel herself start to blush, so she turned to the other portrait. "Your Father?" "Yes. It was painted after my mother's death." Bartholomew Bass stood stiffly next to his desk, his hand placed strategically on a pile of written documents. He stared at them solemnly, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was concentrating on something of great importance. Blair wished there could have been a portrait painted of Bart when Chuck's mother was alive. From what she had been told she knew he had once been very happy, but here he looked so stern and forbidding she couldn't imagine him raising a child. She wondered if Chuck realized just how much he had revealed to her by showing her this room. "How did he die?" Blair asked, even though she already knew. She wanted to hear him speak of his father. "A carriage accident," Chuck said with a frown. "He was on his way to a party, and he was hit by another carriage and thrown from the vehicle. He didn't die right away, but lingered." He looked at Blair, his eyes haunted. "My father always thought I was weak and in the moment he needed me I wasn't there. I ran away." "I'm sorry." Chuck looked away. "Why? You didn't cause the accident." Blair reached out to lightly touch his arm, forcing him to turn and look at her. "I am sorry for you." Looking deep into his tortured eyes, she realized that there was more depth to her husband then she had ever dreamed. He was in pain and she didn't know how to help him. "You didn't run away because you were weak. I think you ran away because you couldn't handle your feelings. You could no longer hide behind this lecherous rakish persona you had developed, so you ran. There is more to you, Chuck, than what you show the world." Chuck cupped her face in his hands and with his finger he traced her lips. "And that is why I am so very afraid you shall win our wager. " "You're just saying that to get into bed with me," Blair said breathlessly, her heart thumping in her chest. "I wish that were true," he said, his face open and for once sincere. Realizing just how dangerous this game they were playing was, Blair tried to step away, only to be caught by his eyes. Stripped bare of all pretense, baring his soul, they mesmerized her. Leaning in, Blair softly brushed her lips over his; then, before she could take her next breath, his mouth plundered hers, staking a claim that left no doubt of his intentions. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Blair pulled him in closer, her fingers twining in his short hair.
Exploring her mouth with his tongue, Chuck caressed and teased her until she kissed him back, her tongue gently stroking his. With a moan his hands slid up to cup her buttocks, pushing her closer to him. She made a purring sound low in her throat, encouraging him. Worshipfully he placed butterfly kisses along the slender column of her neck. He made love to her with his hands, his lips. His only goal was to fulfill every dream of sensual pleasure she had ever had. His hands reached up to cup her breasts, fondling them, he gently kissed them through the silk of her gown until the nipples were pebble hard. Bringing his lips once more back to hers, he breathed in her scent, feeling as if he had died and gone to heaven. Blair was lost to reality, never before had she known such bliss. Kissing him back, she tried to ignore the warning signals in her brain. The ones that just wouldn't go away, no matter how sweet his kisses nor how gentle his hands. With one last longing filled kiss she pulled away from him reluctantly. "My, Love," Chuck murmured throatily. "The things you do to me…. I don't want to fall in love, but I can't seem to help it when you are near. "
****
Quickly dressing her mistress, Rose curtsyed and was out of the room in minutes. Chuck entered the room soon after, a glass of scotch in one hand. "God have mercy," Chuck swore as he shakily gulped down his drink, slamming the glass down on the wood mantelpiece above the fireplace. Blair stood still under his heated gaze as he perused every inch of her body. Heady with desire he felt as if he had fallen under a spell. "If that is how you plan on dressing every night, I do not think I can sleep in your bed and keep our wager." For the first time Blair felt like a woman, a very desirable woman. The way he was looking at her filled her with courage, and made her feel beautiful. Walking towards him, her hips swaying, her nipples peaking as the silk slid over them, she felt like a seductress, seducing her prey. She paused a few feet in front of him, twirling around she showcased the nightgown. "Do you like what you see, Chuck?" Speechless for once Chuck could only nod. Breathing raggedly, it took a minute for him to respond. "Yes, very much." Cocking her head to one side, she slithered even closer to him. "Do you think I am beautiful?" "The most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Chuck swore fervently. "Can you not see the power you have over me?" Blair dragged in a steadying breath, "I won't lie and say I am comfortable dressed like this. I feel exposed, nervous—" "And totally beautiful?" he interrupted. Laughing a beautiful carefree tinkling sound, she answered, "Yes." "Since it will just make you even more uncomfortable, I won't tell you how much I want you right now," he smiled a sensual smile that made her blood tingle in her veins and sent fire racing in her belly. "Give me a chance, Blair. I won't do anything you don't want. I wish only to please you." "I know," Blair said softly. His words filled her with a sense of wellbeing. She could trust him not to take advantage and force her virginity from her. He had proven it the night before and once again he was stating his intentions. The words were as precious to her as pearls. She prayed he spoke true, because if he did, maybe there was hope for them yet. After today she knew she could be wooed and won by him if that was what he truly wished. Part of her was already falling for him. All that was left was for him to fall all the way, renounce his past life and mistresses, and pledge to remain forever faithful to her. "Let me kiss you, My Love?" he asked, his voice aching with longing. With a few short steps Blair stood before him, her eyes searching his. In their depths she saw his need, his desire for her, and it thrilled her. Gently Chuck put his arms around her, drawing her closer. Tilting her head, Blair offered her lips to him. Instead of capturing them, he painted gossamer fine kisses over her temple, her eyelids and her jaw line. Slowly he made his way to her mouth, his lips brushing first one red pouting lip and then the next, slowly, sensually. His tongue ran along the sensitive seam of her mouth, begging for entrance. She gave it, meeting his tongue with her own. The kiss was tender and sweet, and then slowly it shifted, becoming something more as his tongue stroked hers. No longer content with slow soft kisses, Chuck deepened the kiss, awaking a passion within Blair she had not known existed. Kissing him back feverishly, she felt a burning fire inside that threatened to consume her.
As he pulled her closer to him, she felt the rigidness of his erection against her belly and a feeling of great power filled her. The thought that she could do this to him filled her with awe. His hands found her breasts, and he held the small weight, his thumb sliding over her already erect nipples. If possible, they hardened even further and she felt an unfamiliar ache between her thighs. His other hand cupped her bottom and Blair felt drugged, like she was floating in a bottle of champagne. He continued to kiss her; deep kisses that made her blood dance in her veins. She felt his hand move over her belly, sliding downward to cup her sex through the silk of her gown. Blair shivered as fever swept her at his touch. Suddenly, his mouth moved from her lips and fell to her neck, and she murmured in protest. "If we continue like this, I won't be able to keep from making you mine," he said against the softness of her skin. Blair waited for him to continue, to speak the words she needed to hear. As the silence in the room grew, she felt cold water wash over her at his silence. Reluctantly pulling away from him, she felt the loss of his heat and she was filled with anger. If only he could say he loved her, promise his fidelity, she would give in, let him take her. "Then we had best stop," she said tartly, turning her back on him and heading to the bed. Chuck felt his stomach flare with something unknown, a fluttering he couldn't explain. He shook it off, suddenly angry with himself for behaving like a gentleman. He would have had only to push a little further and she would have been his, naked and writhing beneath him.
****
"Nate," he drawled dangerously, like the predator he was. "So nice of you to make an appearance." Swallowing hard, Nate fought his desire to run away. "Yes…ahem…well, I didn't have much of a choice in the matter." "I have no doubt of that," Chuck said, his eyes glittering like chips of granite. "Please introduce me to your masked companion." "Mademoiselle Fifi," Blair said cheekily, holding out her hand for Chuck. Chuck took her hand in a bruising grip, and lowering his head, his lips met her glove. Separated by the kidskin of her gloves, Blair nevertheless could feel the heat from Chuck's lips and it started a flame that licked up her thighs and across her belly. "If you don't mind, old friend, I am going to steal your companion for the evening." Nate practically pushed Blair at Chuck. "Steal away." Snaking his arm around her waist and squeezing tightly, Chuck led his wife to the velvet booth in the center of the room. Handing her a glass of champagne, he took a seat. "So tell me, Mademoiselle Fifi, how exactly do you pleasure my good friend Nathaniel?" "With my lips and my tongue, any way he will have me," Blair said tauntingly. Chuck inhaled sharply as he saw red. He wanted to throttle his wife, no, he wanted to kiss her, no, he wanted to fuck her, and he wasn't sure in what order. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, forcing himself to stay calm. "You shouldn't have come." "You didn't give me a choice, Chuck," Blair said tartly. "Go home, Blair," he replied in a strangled voice. "You asked me to give us a chance, to keep an open mind, and against all my better judgment I took you at your word. We have a wager and you are honor bound as a gentleman to keep it." "Since when am I a gentleman?" he asked with a twisted curl of his lips. Blair laid her hand gently in his, twining their fingers like vines. "Always with me." Staring up at the stage, Blair watched the woman lift their skirts and kick their legs higher and higher. "You know, I got moves." "Really," he said, his voice as dark and sensual as velvet. Blair swayed to the music. "You don't think I would do it." Chuck gripped her hand tightly. "You wouldn't dare," he threatened. Seductively, Blair slithered closer to Chuck. Leaning in, her lips inches from his ear, she spoke, "Come home, Chuck, or I will get up there and give them a show like they have never seen." Chuck looked at the stage at the tawdry woman lifting their skirts; the men hollering and hooting, and he realized he had already known what his decision was the moment she had showed up in his club. She called to him like a siren and he was powerless to ignore her song. "You win, My Love."
****
"You are the most infuriating woman I have ever known. Half the time I don't know whether I want to spank you, fuck you, or kiss you." Blair's breath came fast in her chest, refusing to be cowed by his vulgar words or his threats, she pushed him away. "I think I would prefer the spanking," she said disdainfully. Chuck's eyes glittered. "As you wish, My Love." Grabbing a hold of her wrists, he yanked her towards the desk. "What are you doing?" Dragging her across the desk, he bent her over, not even bothering to clear off his desk. Papers slithered and slid caught between the silk of her dress and the hard wood of the desk. "Surely you aren't going to…" her voice trailed off as she tried to squirm away to no avail. She was trapped by his hands, iron gloved in velvet. Chuck leaned to whisper in her ear, blowing gently at the curls that had escaped her coiffure. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you shouldn't say things you don't mean? You deserve to be punished for your exploits this evening." "Don't you dare, Chuck," she said as her blood bubbled and boiled in her veins. "I dare anything where you are concerned." His hand made its way up her voluminous skirts to dance tantalizingly above her silk garters and up her thigh. Blair's toes curled in her leather slippers as she felt the heat of his palm against her skin. "Say please," Chuck mocked. Flipping her over, he sat her on the desk; parting her legs, he stood between them, his hardness pressing firmly against her through their clothes. His lips swooped down to catch hers in a plundering kiss. Blair's lips parted as he claimed her mouth, his tongue gliding and dancing seductively, driving her mad. Her arms reached up, pulling him closer, and he sank into her embrace. His hands moved up to lightly brush her nipples in teasing circles. Blair felt her hips tilt against him and she gasped at the exquisite pleasure the act yielded. He let her breasts completely fill his hands, before bending to kiss first one and then the other. Opening his mouth, he tongued the peaks roughly through the thin silk of her gown. Blair moaned as he lifted her skirts, his hands sliding up her legs, coming to rest on either side of her thighs. Lazily he fiddled with the ribbons of her garters, and she held her breath as his thumbs made small circles over her skin. She didn't have time to think before he dropped to his knees, placing a fluttering kiss on the inside of her leg, his thumb reaching up to gently rest in her soft curls. Blair arched her back and her shoulders trying to pull away, tell him to stop. But in the next second her body bucked against him as his finger grazed over a sensitive place. Then his tongue was where his finger had been just moments ago. Suddenly, Blair didn't want him to stop at all. Her fingers somehow found their way into his thick hair, and she thrust them in his locks, pulling and twisting. With a wicked mouth and a merciless tongue he found a rhythm that left her aching with need. A cry escaped her and then another as he lapped at her longer and deeper. "Please," she whispered brokenly, her voice sounding tiny and very far away. He paused for a moment, and she thrust her hips at him in agony. He slid a finger into her and began to stroke, and she felt the world tilt and spin in a crazy kaleidoscope of color. "Please, what?" he asked in a deep devil's voice. He slid another finger in her and her flesh pulsed around him. "Beg me, My Love. I want my name to be on your lips when you come." "Chuck…Chuck," she whispered over and over again as he drove her closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy. There was no holding back, no escaping, and she trembled as spasm after spasm overtook her. Then it was quiet as the storm passed. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe as he arose, running his hands over her body, claiming her with his touch. Lost in a hazy glow of pleasure, Blair barely heard the knock on the door. "Excuse me, Your Grace, the crowds are calling for you," came a loud voice through the door. "Damnation," Chuck swore. "I told them never to bother me when I am with female company." Blair stiffened in anger, bristling like a porcupine. "Is that what I am? Female company?" she spat out. "Yes…no," Chuck said dazedly, shaking his head. Tapping her foot angrily, her eyes shooting sparks, Blair stared him down. Chuck's lips slowly curved into a smile as he took in her anger, her fire, at being thought of as just another one of his conquests. "No, My Love. While I have proven without a doubt that you are female, you are certainly not what I would call female company." "Then what would you call me?" Blair asked with an angry toss of her head. "My wife," Chuck said simply as if it explained everything. Blair turned away as angry tears of frustration filled her eyes. Chuck followed her gently, taking her face in his hands, he turned her to face him. Leaning in so close she could feel the whisper of his breath on her lips, he murmured, "And my Love."
****
Rapping at the door of Blair's bedchamber, he didn't wait for her to call out to him. Entering the room, he stood at the threshold in shock at the beauty that lay elegantly sprawled out on the velvet settee. His heart in his throat, his mouth suddenly very dry, he was as still as a statue as his eyes roved over his wife. She was glorious in the candlelight, the curves of her luscious body elegantly draped in almost transparent red silk. Entering the room, he was made painfully aware of how tight his trousers had suddenly gotten. "Chuck," Blair said breathily, arising from the settee, the folds of her gown flowing gracefully over her body. "My Love," he replied, his voice thick with desire. "You came." Walking towards him, her hips swaying seductively, she stopped mere inches from him. Chuck reached out to gently cup the side of her face. "Nothing could have kept me away." Her hands reached out to touch his shoulders and for a brief heartbreaking moment he thought she was going to push him away. Instead she only pulled him closer, her breasts pressing firmly against his chest. Chuck had never been so aroused, so desperate for her. His hands strayed to her hair, running his fingers through her curls, he inhaled deeply of her perfume. She smelled like gardenias and freesias and the heavenly scent intoxicated him. With tender pressure his hand slid to the back of her head and he buried his long fingers in her hair, pushing her head closer to his. Leaning in, he stroked her plush, pouting mouth with his tongue, waiting patiently for hers to open. When finally she opened her mouth, he groaned in ecstasy. Blair felt her spine melt like warm honey as his tongue sought hers, tenderly caressing. She met him, stroke for stroke, shivering at the delicateness of his touch. Her hand left his shoulder, curling tightly into the hair on the back of his head, pulling him even closer. Rubbing her tight and throbbing body seductively against him, she tried to ease the burning ache in her thighs. Walking backwards, she led him to the great bed. She made no protest as Chuck pulled the bed curtains aside, guiding her down unto the mattress. When at last Chuck lifted his head, Blair found she was clinging to him like a drowning victim. Somehow, instead of being mortified, it only served to elevate her desire. Blair sighed as Chuck whispered endearments, his lips sliding down into the hollow of her throat. She shuddered as he found the curve of her neck, nipping at the tender flesh and than laving it with his hot tongue. Her hips arched off the bed, only to come achingly into contact with his hardness. Writhing sinuously, she tried to bring him closer, fit them together like puzzle pieces. His hands ran over her reverently, caressing her breasts, her hips, and her thighs. Untying her dressing gown, he gazed at the swell of her perfect breasts, her rosy nipples poking out from the silk of her gown. Lowering his head, he lapped at the erect buds, his tongue wetting the silk, creating a delicious friction that soon had her gasping aloud. Sliding the sleeves of her nightgown down over her breasts, he cupped them in his large hands. Grinding his hips into hers, he smiled with delight as her body bucked and arched against him. Wooing her with his lips, his tongue, and his body, he sought to bring her to new heights of pleasure. Blair shuddered at the exquisite friction of his hard length pressed against the juncture of her thighs. For a fleeting moment she thought of their wager and considered pulling away, but she knew he was so close to telling her what she needed to hear. She could feel his love for her with every kiss and caress. "Touch me," Chuck rasped out. He needed to feel her hands on his body, know that she wanted to touch him as much as he needed to touch her. Guiding her hand to the front of his trousers, he waited with baited breath for her to refuse. Instead, with a wanton smile, she stroked him through the fabric, her eyes sly and wicked. "My Love, what you do to me," he groaned as he grew even harder under her touch. Chuck kissed her deeply, surrendering to his desires, knowing they were reaching the point of no return. Lifting his head, he stared deeply into her velvety eyes and felt the bars that had surrounded his heart for years break open, one by one, setting him free. Leaning forward he brushed his lips reverently against hers. "I love you," he murmured against her mouth. Pulling back he watched her, almost afraid of her reaction. When he saw her lips curve into a triumphant smile he feared all was lost, but then she kissed him, a deep drugging kiss that sent his senses spinning. Blair's heart fluttered open as those three words, eight letters reverberated over and over again deep within her soul. "I…I..." she whispered, trying to capture the words and say them back, but they wouldn't come. So instead she said them with her lips, her eyes, and her hands. Chuck seemed to understand as he slipped her nightdress from her hips and tossed it to the floor in a silken heap. His clothes soon followed. Finally naked, he rubbed his body against hers, smiling in exultation as she moaned and wriggled beneath him. His hands stroked her breasts once more, his half parted lips suckling a budded peak, his fingers making their way lazily to her hot core. Finding the moisture he sought, he fluttered his fingers over her most sensitive spot, delighting in the way her hips surged forward, kissing his hand. Sliding down, his lips parted the soft petals of her flesh. With a merciless tongue he teased and tormented her, sliding one of his long elegant fingers deep inside her. Heat roared through Blair's body, the ache between her legs growing more and more intense. She felt him stroke her slowly, steadily, and her hips quaked and trembled with want and need. She clamped down on him and he quickened his efforts, his tongue dancing over her now tight bud. Stretching her, he plunged a second and then a third finger to the hilt as she bucked and thrashed against him. "That's it, My Love," he whispered hoarsely. "When I'm inside you, move just like this and I will give you everything you need. Pleasure washed over Blair as he compelled and demanded her capitulation. Wave after wave of ecstasy pounded over her faster and faster until with one final arch of her hips she gave in and lay still. Panting, her body flushed and tingling, she lay as if drunk. Satiated, she felt the brush of his hot manhood move up her leg and settle between her thighs. "Touch me and let me show you the power you have over me," Chuck murmured, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. Tentatively she reached out to touch at his velvet hardness and to her pleasure she felt him quiver in her hand. He sucked in a breath as she gently stroked his length. His eyes fluttered closed, his breathing growing ragged and shallow. Afraid he didn't have much time left he unclasped her hand, pressing it to her side. Wetting himself with her juices, he rubbed against her sensitive sex and then, with a quick thrust, he was inside her. Blair's eyes flew open as she took in all the sensations. She tensed as she expected pain, but instead all she felt was a slight stinging sensation as he moved further and further inside of her. Open and ready she welcomed him eagerly. Holding on tightly to his shoulders, she shivered as the slickness of his manhood inside of her seemed to unlock something deep and wild within her. Her fingers clawed at his shoulders as he moved his hips rhythmically against hers. His mouth claimed hers once more, and when she sucked almost painfully on his lower lip, he knew he was near. With wicked fingers he once more found her bud, and he flicked his finger until she was moaning and moving against him like a wild animal. Thrilled and excited by her response, he jerked violently inside her and then lay still. Their bodies still drawn together, Blair's hands stroked his back. He held himself painfully still as she continued to explore his body, reaching down to cup his buttocks in her palms. His body trembled and shook as he grew hard inside her once more. To his surprise, Blair opened her legs even wider, and he greedily took what she was offering. With the wet heat of his tongue he found her breast and Blair responded, her nails leaving deep scratches on his back.
Even as Blair felt sore, she couldn't help the need that once more lapped at her like a flame. As his mouth moved from one breast to the other, his tongue licking steadily, she felt sensual pleasure rush from nerve to nerve. Overcome she turned her head to the side, staring at the butterfly bed hangings. Hazy with desire she swore she saw them swirl around her in a rainbow of color. "Kiss me," Chuck said in a guttural whisper. Guiding her mouth to his, she ravished him with her tongue as he quaked and trembled around her in release. "My, God," Chuck gasped as he pulled out of her. Never before had he experienced passion like this. Fulfilled and at peace for the first time in his life, he pulled her into his arms, gathering her close. Shutting his eyes, his body pressed firmly against hers, he fell asleep to the rhythmic sound of her heartbeat. Tingling all over, her body achingly sensitive, Blair waited until she knew he was asleep before whispering the words that had been on the tip of her tongue all evening. "I love you."
****
Stumbling up the steps, he made it to his wife's rooms. Not bothering to knock he stormed into the bedroom. Looking at his wife's peacefully sleeping form like she hadn't a care in the world, made him see flashing bursts of color. Stalking over to the bed, he parted the butterfly curtains, his hot gaze taking in the way her white silk nightgown clung to every curve. His groin tightened painfully as he glimpsed a rosy nipple, barely restrained by the low neckline of her gown. He tried to fight the lust he felt and cut himself off from the power she had over him, but it was useless. As his hands reached for her, he realized he had lost control the minute he had entered the room. Lazily his hand slid up her leg, lifting her gown to her thighs, his body soon followed. Aligning her softness to his hardness, he realized that he would never be free of her hold over him. As she slowly awakened, his lips crashed over hers, stifling her cry of surprise. Anger mixed with yearning filled his kiss, and for a second she was still, but then in the next moment her tongue was searching out his. In the past he would have been gentle. He would have kept his passions in check. But things had changed and she had betrayed him. He wasn't gentle now. Unbuttoning his trousers with one hand he was surprised she didn't struggle or try to fight back, but instead she undulated under him, rubbing her satin skin against him. Reaching down with his mouth, he captured a pebbled nipple as he wedged a knee between her thighs, parting her legs. Guiding himself into her, he almost sighed with pleasure when he slid into her hot slick sheath. Almost angrily he drove himself into her, filling her deeply, sliding out, then thrusting hard into her again. His fingers found her most secret spot, and he rubbed at the small nub lazily, ensuring her pleasure, even as he pounded into her. Blair arched into him, her breasts teasing his chest as she pressed herself tighter against him. She moaned his name against his lips and began to tremble, and still he drove on, pounding, holding nothing back as he took what he wanted. She came with violent force, and still he thrust into her over and over again. Gripping her hips cruelly, he shouted out his release as he finally climaxed. Pulling out of her as quickly as he could, he left her panting as he pulled his trousers back on. "Consider the wager over. From now on you will welcome me to your bed whenever I please," Chuck threatened with a ruthless smile. "And don't ever leave again because the next time I will come after you."
****
Blair forced herself to smile at him softly and ignore the aching pain that stabbed at her heart. "Dance with me, Lord Archibald?" Blair gave him a flirtatious look from under her thick eyelashes. She knew it was wrong to give him her first dance of the evening. That should have been reserved for her husband, but her heart was broken and Nate's admiration served as a soothing balm to her aching soul. "Of—of course," he stammered. Holding out his arm, Nate escorted Blair to the ballroom. As they took their places for the waltz, the music started up. Embracing Blair closely in his arms, Nate searched for signs of Chuck. He had only seen his friend for a few minutes when he arrived. He knew that Chuck wouldn't appreciate him dancing with his wife, but if he wasn't going to make an appearance and dance with her, Nate would. Blair deserved to dance at her own ball. "Where's Chuck?" "Does it matter?" she murmured softly in his ear. Nate swallowed hard as the heavenly scent of her perfume wafted up to his nose. "Don't think to use me to make your husband jealous," he said weakly, his voice wavering at her closeness. "I wouldn't dream of it." Blair gave Nate a calculated look. "Especially not when he is most certainly sniffing around Lady Dewhurst looking for a handout. " Nate shifted uncomfortably, almost losing a step at her blunt choice of words. "While there was once something between Lady Elle Dewhurst and Chuck, I am quite sure he ended it long ago, Your Grace." "You forget. Please call me Blair." Her dazzling smile almost took Lord Archibald's breath away. "As for my husband's affair with the lady, I am afraid that they were still corresponding as of several days ago. She apparently was gifted with a sapphire bracelet recently from my husband." Nate swore sharply. How could Chuck be such a fool? He already possessed the loveliest gem in all of London and yet he was continuing his dalliance with Lady Dewhurst? "I truly thought his relationship with Elle was at an end. I am very sorry, Blair." Tears twinkled like diamonds on Blair's lashes. "So am I. At one time I really thought he loved me, but now it seems it was all a joke, part of his wager to get me into bed." "So you finally did consummate your marriage?" Nate asked delicately. Overcome with emotion, Blair could only nod. "For once in my life I am truly envious of him." Nate lifted her hand to his lips. "He doesn't deserve you. You are the most beautiful woman in this room tonight, and yet he can't be bothered to even dance with you. "Thank you, Nate." Lord Archibald, noticing her eyes had lost a bit of their sparkle, decided on a course of action he normally would never have dreamed off. Leaning in, he whispered into her ear," Lets play Chuck at his own game. It won't take much to make him jealous. Pretend I am the most fascinating person you have ever met and I can guarantee within seconds Chuck will be here." Blair looked at him incredulously out of the corner of her eyes, but in the next instant she gave in. Laughing gaily as if Nate had said something outrageously funny, she let him spin her around the room, her dress flaring up to show a scandalous set of perfectly formed dainty ankles. Her laughter came to an abrupt halt as she felt a set of eyes piercing her like daggers from across the room. Turning her head, she felt a small shiver of fear as she saw Chuck, leaning almost lazily against the mirrored wall of the ballroom. She wondered how long he had been standing there watching. His eyes locked on hers, and the ferocity of the passion she saw reflected in them caused her to misstep and stumble against her partner. Thankfully, Nate held her so tightly she did not lose her footing and fall. Chuck did not wait for the dance to even finish before tapping Lord Archibald on the shoulder to interrupt. "My wife, my dance." Chuck's voice while velvety smooth held a threat that sent chills up Blair's spine.
Добавлено (03.01.2012, 23:21) --------------------------------------------- It didn't take him long, within minutes he was in her room, dressed in a plush purple dressing gown. He walked towards her, two cut crystal glasses of scotch in his hand, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was naked underneath "I thought you would enjoy this after tonight," he offered. Blair gratefully took the glass, curious as to the taste. Ladies did not drink anything stronger that champagne or a glass of wine. Sipping at the smoky caramel flavored liquor, she almost choked. It was much stronger than she had ever expected. Chuck watched her with an amused expression on his face as she slowly polished off the drink and set it on the small side table. Finishing his scotch in one gulp, he came towards her, and lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed each finger one at a time, then the palm, and finally her sensitive inner wrist. Blair shook her hand away from his angrily even though it hurt her heart to do so. "Even with your peace offering you are no longer welcome in my bedchamber," Blair said coldly. "Perhaps you would prefer Archibald in your bed?" "And what if I do?" Blair lifted her eyes to Chuck's in challenge. With two steps he was behind her, his hot breath skimming the tender skin of her earlobe. "Then I will make sure you forget he even exists." Blair's eyelids fluttered close as his lips brushed the sensitive curve of her neck. Barely able to breathe, she fought the heat that even now was turning her blood into liquid fire. Tempted and weak with desire she whirled to face Chuck. "You waste your time, Chuck. Your kisses mean nothing to me. Not anymore." Chuck arched an eyebrow at her. "So at one time they did mean something?" She met his eyes coldly. "Go to your mistress, Chuck, and leave me in peace." The words, instead of being empowering, left her cold and empty. "But what if all I want is my wife." He captured one of her hands and lifted her fingertips to his lips." "Don't toy with me. I know all about Elle and your little gift to her." Chuck's face went still, his mind attempting to process this new information. "And how would you know about that?" "I saw her letter," Blair spat at him. "What letter?" She shrugged her shoulders at him angrily. "What does it matter now? "It matters to me. What letter?" His voice while civil held an edge that made Blair's breath hitch in her throat." Suddenly unable to face him, she turned away and walked to the widows to peer outside. "The morning after we…" she paused as the words stuck in her throat, "consummated our marriage, a letter came for you." "From Elle?" Blair nodded; unable to speak for a moment as she remembered with knife-like precision how she had felt when she read the letter. "She thanked you for your gift and asked that you meet her that evening." "So that is why you left?" For the first time things finally made sense to him. He had wondered ever since he had overheard the conversation between Blair and her mother, but now he had proof. He knew that she had left not because she didn't love him, but because she did. Chuck took several steps towards Blair, until he was standing directly behind her. "Turn around, Blair." His voice was so gentle and so loving that she couldn't help the tears that came to her eyes. "No, I won't," she choked out. "I don't want to hear you tell me how she meant nothing to you when you clearly cared enough to buy her a bracelet." "Is that what you think? That I bought a bracelet for my mistress because I cared for her?" Hearing the amusement in his voice, Blair stiffened her spine and wiped furiously at her stinging eyes. "Why else would you?" "While I am very much enjoying this very lovely view of your backside," Chuck drawled. "I would much prefer to see your beautiful face. Turn around, My Love." It was almost a command, and before Blair had a chance to think, she was turning around to face him. Tilting her head proudly, she met his gaze head on. Whatever excuses he had, she was prepared to listen to them, but she wouldn't give in. No matter how much she loved and needed him. She could not allow herself to be second best, a substitute for his mistress." "I don't know what Elle wrote in the letter, but I can tell you that I did give her a gift. A parting gift of a sapphire bracelet." Chuck smiled down at Blair, his face soft and tender. "Having met your parents I am assured that your sheltered upbringing has left you unfamiliar with the rules of conduct between a gentlemen and his Cher Ami, but it is customary to end the relationship with a farewell gift. The bracelet was just that. A gift to end what had become an unsatisfactory arrangement." "I see." Blair's voice was icy. Chuck reached out to cup her face gently in his hand. At his touch Blair had to fight hard not to lean into the strength of his hand. "I don't think you do. I was tiring of Elle before our marriage was ever arranged, and once I met you I knew my relationship with her was forever over. When you met me at the bedroom door brandishing a pistol, I knew that I had been given a woman of passion and spirit. From then on you were in my heart, and before I knew what was happening I was madly and passionately in love with you, Blair." "Things are over between you and Elle?" Blair was proud her voice didn't quaver when she said the other woman's name. Chuck's thumb gently stroked the side of her face. "Before I ever met you, My Love. Ever since the vows I took on our wedding day, there has only been you. I love you, Blair." He sweetly pressed a fleeting kiss to her lips, almost as if he was afraid that she would turn her head away and refuse him. As he pulled away, her fingertips traveled to her lips in wonder. She couldn't believe it was possible, that he could really love her. Time stood still around her as Blair searched Chuck's face, as if she could read the truth there. The walls she had built around her heart slowly cracked as she saw the love shining in his eyes. With a small sob she threw herself into his arms. Never before had she known such happiness, such lightness in her being. "I love you, too," she whispered against his mouth. As her lips found his, eager and searching, he kissed her back, soft and slow. She was consuming him, melting him from the inside out, melding his heart and his soul. God help him, he hadn't known such bliss and such peace could exist for him. His tongue ventured into her mouth in a light feathery touch. Breathing deeply, he twisted his mouth over hers in long, searching kisses, losing himself in her warmth.
****
Chuck drew her into his arms and she clung to his shoulder. Being so close to him, she felt almost dizzy with desire. She wanted him, needed him so desperately. "I think we can do without this," he said, his voice deep and husky. Before she knew it, her nightgown was puddled at her feet in a silken heap. His gaze wandered over her milky skin, rosy pert nipples, and the delectable dark curls at the juncture of her thighs. "Exquisite…there is no other word to describe your beauty." "Chuck…" she replied unevenly. "Can't you see how lovely you are? What you do to me?" He let out a shaky breath, his fingers tangling in her hair. "When I lay with you tonight, it will be because I love you. Because I want you. Because I desire you with every fiber of my being. Is that understood?" Blair's eyes clung to his. "Yes." It was barely a sound, merely a breath of air. His lips brushed over hers slowly in sinfully tantalizing touches. His mouth hovered over hers, teasing her with his restraint, and she slid her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. He fed on her lips; endless kisses that made her body soft and liquid. She couldn't repress a moan when he finally gave her the open-mouthed kiss she wanted, his tongue exploring hers with slow languorous strokes. He cupped her breast delicately in his firm hand, squeezing lightly until her nipple budded and hardened. His lips moved from her mouth, and he slid his tongue down the curve of her neck. Tasting the sweet and salty of her skin, he moaned into hollow of her throat. Trembling with excitement, Blair reached between the folds of his robe and found to her pleasure that he was naked underneath. Her hands slid over his chest, twining in the thick hair. Each caress of her fingertips resonated with him, penetrating to the muscle and bone as if she was reaching into his heart. Her hands moved lower, grazing the sharp edge of his hipbone. "Blair," he inhaled sharply. His hips pushed urgently at her as she touched his jutting manhood. Her sweet caress made the blood roar like thunder in his ears. He swelled and leapt in her hand, and as he watched her slowly smirk, he grew even more erect. He knew if she touched him much longer, he would surely burst. Unable to wait one minute longer, he gathered her up in his arms, chuckling at her small sound of surprise as he tossed her on the bed. Throwing his dressing gown to the floor, his mouth returning to hers, his skin rubbing deliciously against hers. Their tongues met, heated and greedy. Blair shifted, bringing one of her legs around him, her mound rocking and cradling his hardness in a taunting rhythm. He could feel her; hot, sleek, and damp against him and it was beyond anything he had ever felt. His fingers slid between their bodies, fluffing her curls. Slowly he traced and mapped her slick folds as her body shook with excitement. The tip of his finger teased her with light strokes, until she became swollen and heavy with need. He circled her over and over again until she twisted and moaned beneath him. Desire burned in Blair, brightly like a thousand suns. It was beyond bearing, and she was out of control. With a gasp she surrendered to the bliss that was already climbing up her toes and spreading through her belly. She clawed at him as the world shifted in its axis, spinning wildly out of control. When at last she lay still, he caught her with strong hands, lifting her, and settling her slim thighs over his. "Ride me," he directed, his voice strained. His hands on her hips, he guided himself into her hot center. His hands slid around to cup her rounded buttocks. As he filled her thick and hard, she looked down at his swollen hardness as it impaled her silken sheath. Her hair long hair fell around them like a shining mantle of darkness. With one hand she braced herself against his chest, her neck arching as a cry of desire was wrenched from her throat. She panted and writhed, driving them both mad. Rocking against him, she made love to him, moving up and down on his shaft, growing wetter and slicker around him with each stroke. Propping himself up, his mouth captured a nipple, the soft pink bud contracting as he wet it with his tongue. He touched her then, where she cradled his shaft. Soft flutters over wet, pink velvet that had her jerking around him, greedily clenching, pressing, and seeking. He fell back against the mattress, watching her in the firelight. She was so beautiful, so perfect. Then he was surging up to meet her, unable to get enough, never enough. Their eyes locked and Chuck recalled the first time he met Blair, the way she had turned her head when he tried to kiss her, her steady hand when she had pointed a pistol at him on their wedding night. He had told himself what he felt then was passion, lust. That the only reason he had wanted her was because she denied him. Nothing had prepared him for the love that with each day grew and grew until all he could see was her. He needed her, needed her as he had never needed anyone or anything before, and instead of feeling fear he knew only that he was home. "Chuck," she whispered." "I want…" "I know, My Love." His thrusts quickened to meet hers, thighs and hips kissing passionately. Filling her, feeling her flutter around him, he lost himself inside her. Blair gasped, blistering flames licking at her insides, burning her in sweet abandon. Hurtling towards the edge of cataclysmic bliss, she cried out Chuck's name over and over until she was breathless. He remained inside her until she pulled away, falling against him in a limp heap. Nestled in the crook of his arm, satiated and exhausted, she felt him kiss her temple and then the tip of her ear. "I love you," she said, smiling to herself when she heard him say it at exactly the same time. Shutting her eyes, she let sleep drape her as she was cradled in the protective circle of his arms. Later that morning they lay together in bed, limbs entwined, and their breathing in unison. "I didn't know love could be like this," Blair murmured as she painted kisses along Chuck's jaw line. He smiled lazily down at her. "Neither did I." "When I met you, I hated you. I swore to only ever see you as the enemy." "I know." "Who would have thought my enemy would become My Love?" Blair chuckled, the sound filling Chuck with a happiness he had never dreamed possible. Rolling her under him, he proceeded to show her just how enemies became lovers.
только из-за этой фразы, этим ребенком можно только восхищаться 
* 
) 
