First: Gossip Girl, Chuck/Nate, Hard R
Chuck from Gossip Girl is British. Any American who watches: how is his accent? And so:
Experimenting in entirely new fandom.
Title: Martinis and Manipulations
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Chuck/Nate, Also Chuck/OMC, Chuck/Blair
Warning: Sex, Language
Summary: For Oxoniensis: Gossip Girl, Chuck/Nate, first time they get drunk (and make out). I may have added the part in brackets. Spoilers as far as 1.11 - the Christmas episode!
Word count: 2200. I may have gotten carried away!
Chuck raises his sights from scuffed shoes up to a sneer. An arm dressed in a cheap suit dares remain blocking his - Chuck Bass’s entry. This guy is looking to lose his job. No club in New York city - even New York State - has refused Chuck entry since Chuck realized that privilege could buy him dirty, sexy fun wherever he chose to partake in it. Even clubs away from Chuck’s usual path know who he is. Everyone wants a piece of Bass money.
This guy is clearly new, and Chuck doesn’t have time to be educating him in the mores of New York club going.
Several Benjamin Franklins later and Chuck’s waved the entry that should have been his immediately. First: a quickly downed glass of Krug to get the warm buzz begun. He waves off the line offered him, because some experimentation needs a relatively clear mental record.
The record of Nate’s blue eyes meeting Chuck’s while Chuck screwed the hot brunette, fast on all fours, is seared into Chuck’s brain. Even if Nate wasn’t asleep, he usually did a fine job of pretending to be crashed out on the sofa. Except for last night. Certainly Nate’s never watched before, which is a new addition to Chuck’s world. An addition with extra complications, because Chuck is pretty sure Nate was jacking off, and almost definitely sure that the creasing of Nate’s eyes and the low grunt that escaped Nate’s mouth, was part of the reason Chuck shot his load so early.
Which is confusing, to say the least.
Chuck doesn’t do confused.
He does do getting drunk and to hell with any consequences. There’s nothing money can’t buy him out of and what’s a little gay experimentation? It’s almost expected.
He starts by making out with a blonde with hair shorter than his own, digging his nails into her scalp enough to draw a low gurgling noise out of her mouth. A warm up, and the cold of the beer her approaching girlfriend throws over his shirt isn’t enough to dampen his ardor. He’s ready for the main event.
Chuck struts over to the end of the bar where the men are casting overt looks of want toward each other. He surveys his options. Longish blond hair left hanging around wiry shoulders - too girly. What would be the point? Short black hair and dark eyes - too narcissistic, even for him. The end of the bar is being propped up by a guy wearing brown hair flopping over uncertain blue eyes. A college experimenter, in from NYU’s film society or perhaps arts club, Chuck bets. He struts over, orders a bottle of champagne and pours his conquest a drink.
Apparently not everyone has Chuck’s same level of tolerance for champagne and two glasses later the guy is pushing his hand up Chuck’s shirt and making eyes toward the restroom.
A public stall - not a first for Chuck but hardly ideal; being pushed into it by a guy who has his hand down Chuck’s pants - now that’s a first.
Chuck scrambles for purchase on the wall, flaking plaster getting into his nails. He lets the guy pull his pants down, freeing the cock that’s already starting to harden.
“Want to suck your cock,” the guy mumbles.
“Be my guest,” Chuck smirks and presses his hands even firmer into the wall, the plaster fucking tearing out blood now, as the guy takes an experimental firm stroke up Chuck’s cock.
Chuck doesn’t want to look at the guy. His eyes stray to the graffiti on the door. Call Nathan for a good time. Chuck has a moment to smile before wet lips follow hand and Chuck’s thought processes completely jumble.
For a guy who gives off every aura of someone who has never done it before, the guy is pretty fucking awesome at sucking cock. He tantalizingly pauses, building Chuck up to the point where he’s pretty sure he can’t wait any longer, before backing off and giving tiny frustrating pecks that do nothing but drive Chuck crazy.
The guy takes Chuck deep and Chuck feels the familiar low pleasure starting to build, before a loud pop and cold air signal more frustration. Chuck bucks his ass off the wall, bumping his cock into the guy’s lips.
“Say you want it,” the guy says.
“Fuck.” Chuck shuts his eyes. He won’t be manipulated by this guy. He can’t not have those lips back on this cock. “Fuck I want it,” Chuck growls out, flicking his eyes open. The guy’s mouth closes around Chuck, and he hums and locks bright, strangely familiar eyes onto Chuck’s. Chuck doesn’t know which part made him come but he empties himself into the guy’s mouth with an embarrassing cry that he’ll deny later.
If he ever tells anyone.
His come is all over the guy’s chin and the guy sits back and wipes a hand slowly across his full lips.
Nate has cock sucking lips, Chuck thinks and he’s not sure he’s gained any answers at all.
**
Chuck has always had to give Nate a prod in the right direction and by that he means, the way toward rebellion and fun. Nate isn’t a natural rebel, preferring the fantasy of Blair and a marriage he clearly doesn’t want. All of Nate’s experimenting - the alcohol, the weed, his early sexual fumbles - have been orchestrated by Chuck.
Nate just doesn’t know it, or if he does it remains in that arena of subjects that don’t need to be discussed.
Like Nate watching Chuck fuck, which has not been mentioned. The fact of it rattles around Chuck’s brain, working itself into one plan or another, each more wild and ridiculous than the last.
Each ending up with Nate’s cock in Chuck’s mouth - or so he hopes.
Trouble is, for a master manipulator, Chuck isn’t sure how to go about talking Nate into this one. Money is out, ‘cause Nate isn’t impressed by that, and as for just asking - why bother, when there are easier ways to approach matters?
If only Chuck can work out what way that is.
Then Blair turns up alone, telling Chuck Nate and her are over, and that has never been a possibility. Perhaps Nate’s starting to listen.
In the meantime there is Blair. Drunk, Nate’s girl Blair. She’s forbidden territory, and that would make her hot in itself. The fact that fucking her would make manipulating her and Nate pretty damn easy is just an added bonus.
Chuck’s not sure that even he can pry open the iron legs of Blair Waldorf but heartbreak and public displays of skin seem to have lowered her inhibitions and she lets Chuck lower her panties in the back of his limousine.
Chuck kisses her mouth slowly, tasting the alcohol and the Nate on her breath. She smells of a very expensive perfume Chuck doesn’t recognize but he’s sure not going to forget it as he licks its smell off her neck and her newly exposed stomach. He loses its trail as he approaches her clit, and bends down and licks. It’ll be easier if she’s wet.
Blair gives a grunt of surprise that soon turns into panting and writhing and Blair calling him several filthy words he didn’t think she knew. But Blair was always full of surprises.
Chuck guesses eating her out isn’t on Nate’s list of activities, which is interesting. He tastes her as she comes, licking her while the shaking dies away.
While she’s wide eyed and panting, sprawled across the leather, he fumbles for his condom.
“I want you,” Chuck says. He isn’t sure what to add. Nate would have some whole speech. Nate would be doing it in a bedroom with candles and flowers. Chuck isn’t here to copy Nate. "Only if you want to..."
Blair nods and fixes her eyes on his cock as he frees himself and lines it up. He glances up, meets her eyes and waits for the nod, which she gives without a pause. He breaks her open, takes down the barrier she’d kept up for so long, entering a zone meant only for Nate. He stills as she gasps and watches her face as she adjusts. As she takes in their mutual betrayal. Then she leans forward and gives him a soft, tender kiss.
Chuck ignores the sadness that wells inside him, ‘cause they both want someone else to be giving them that sort of kiss, and satisfies himself with fucking her into the limo seat.
**
Chuck offered Nate the invite of course, carefully leaving out himself. Monaco: sunshine, cocktails and the finery of one of the Bass Empire’s most luxurious hotels. He points out that Nate shouldn’t rush things with Blair. Nate’s on the next plane out. Chuck allows himself the triumph of winning. Nate chose him, or his plan won - what’s the difference?
Nate arrives and they bar hop immediately, prowling the town with Martinis and American attitudes in hand. Blair keeps interrupting them by sending Chuck desperate begging texts, then fierce angry ones. All interspersed with the subtext of flirting, which is flattering.
Blair’s dangling on the hook Chuck left out for her. He suggests they send her a picture, loping his hand around Nate’s shoulders and being distracted by Nate’s returning hand on Chuck’s shoulder. Nate leaves it there a long beat, then throws it off with the overly bright smile Chuck’s seen him wear to many a family function.
Chuck downs another Martini at the next club. Nate’s matching him, drink for drink, which means Nate’s a bit drunker than Chuck, but not too much - Chuck’s trained him well.
“Mini-bar,” Nate suggests when the club dares close too early for the sunshine or their good time. Chuck swallows back his surprise that Nate suggested it before he could, and lets Nate take the lead in opening the (too small in Chuck’s opinion, but when did his father ever listen) champagne bottle the Bass Empire courteously provides for their pleasure.
Chuck watches Nate’s mouth close over the bottle, drops escaping and dribbling down Nate’s chin. Nate lifts the bottle away, and catches Chuck’s eye and holds it. He doesn’t wipe his mouth. He hands the bottle wordlessly toward Chuck and when Chuck seizes it, pulls it sharply toward him.
Chuck’s shoulder bumps into Nate’s. They pause, lips a breath apart. Nate smells of sweat and cigarettes. This isn’t a barrier Nate’s going to cross alone. Nate’s done more than Chuck could ever have hoped or arranged for, no matter how far he’d planned. If there’s fallout to be had, it’s Chuck that’s going to take it.
He closes the gap and takes Nate’s lips in his. They tremble, and Chuck gently touches Nate’s lip with his tongue, tasting a remaining bubble. Nate’s mouth opens and Chuck falls headlong into a kiss that tastes of alcohol and the forbidden.
Nate breaks the kiss to lick Chuck’s neck and reach under his shirt. His hands are rough as they pull at Chuck’s clothes. He mumbles words Chuck doesn’t understand into Chuck’s mouth but Chuck’s never heard anything better.
Chuck makes sure both their shirts are gone quickly, before there’s time for stopping. Then they’re kissing again, mouths slip sliding off each other in their haste. Chuck tries to slow it down but there’s no stopping Nate, who stills his hand over Chuck’s pants. Chuck pushes Nate firmly down onto the bed, trapping Nate’s hand awkwardly between them. Nate refuses to move it but he does growl into Chuck’s mouth and thrusts up against him. Chuck’s hard cock bumps into Nate’s and they writhe like that for a while, until Chuck can’t take the dry humping any more and reaches down and into Nate’s pants. He pushes them off as far as he can. He takes Nate’s hard, straining cock and strokes him firmly, listening to the noise Nate makes in response. Nate reaches for Chuck’s pants with the second stroke, eyes closed and fingers fumbling.
“Look at me,” Chuck mumbles and Nate’s eyes flicker open. Chuck holds his gaze as they fuck into each other’s hands, trying to set the same pace but Nate’s too fast and Chuck’s too slow. Chuck starts to lose focus, ‘cause the feel of Nate’s hand is hot and Nate’s making keening noise that Chuck’s afraid he’s matching.
Nate comes first and predictably slackens his hold but Chuck bucks forward into his fist and watches Nate’s face contorting, and that’s all he can cope with.
**
Chuck’s eyes open to an empty bed and when he looks further, a sullen Nate, sat on the couch.
“I want to marry Blair,” Nate says, quietly, directing no blame but taking none either. Nate pads out of the room, with only a brief backward glance toward Chuck before he disappears out of the door.
Chuck rolls over and buries his face into the pillow. If Nate can’t be pleased with actions that were of his own making - well, at least Chuck has some ammunition now. Chuck is what Nate wants, Chuck knows that now. If he has to use underhand methods to make Nate see that - so be it.
**
Spotted: C, back from happy holidays in sunny Monaco, wearing darker glasses and a deeper pout than usual. What happened to him over the break? What evil plan is he ruminating behind those shades? Whatever it is, it’s bound to be interesting. I for one will be keeping an eye out.
xoxo Gossip Girl.
Thoughts, crit, very much welcomed. If anyone feels like beta'ing/helping that would be grand and very much appreciated for I might tidy/work on this some more, and post to any comms. If I have time/feel happy about it in the morning! :)
Experimenting in entirely new fandom.
Title: Martinis and Manipulations
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Chuck/Nate, Also Chuck/OMC, Chuck/Blair
Warning: Sex, Language
Summary: For Oxoniensis: Gossip Girl, Chuck/Nate, first time they get drunk (and make out). I may have added the part in brackets. Spoilers as far as 1.11 - the Christmas episode!
Word count: 2200. I may have gotten carried away!
Chuck raises his sights from scuffed shoes up to a sneer. An arm dressed in a cheap suit dares remain blocking his - Chuck Bass’s entry. This guy is looking to lose his job. No club in New York city - even New York State - has refused Chuck entry since Chuck realized that privilege could buy him dirty, sexy fun wherever he chose to partake in it. Even clubs away from Chuck’s usual path know who he is. Everyone wants a piece of Bass money.
This guy is clearly new, and Chuck doesn’t have time to be educating him in the mores of New York club going.
Several Benjamin Franklins later and Chuck’s waved the entry that should have been his immediately. First: a quickly downed glass of Krug to get the warm buzz begun. He waves off the line offered him, because some experimentation needs a relatively clear mental record.
The record of Nate’s blue eyes meeting Chuck’s while Chuck screwed the hot brunette, fast on all fours, is seared into Chuck’s brain. Even if Nate wasn’t asleep, he usually did a fine job of pretending to be crashed out on the sofa. Except for last night. Certainly Nate’s never watched before, which is a new addition to Chuck’s world. An addition with extra complications, because Chuck is pretty sure Nate was jacking off, and almost definitely sure that the creasing of Nate’s eyes and the low grunt that escaped Nate’s mouth, was part of the reason Chuck shot his load so early.
Which is confusing, to say the least.
Chuck doesn’t do confused.
He does do getting drunk and to hell with any consequences. There’s nothing money can’t buy him out of and what’s a little gay experimentation? It’s almost expected.
He starts by making out with a blonde with hair shorter than his own, digging his nails into her scalp enough to draw a low gurgling noise out of her mouth. A warm up, and the cold of the beer her approaching girlfriend throws over his shirt isn’t enough to dampen his ardor. He’s ready for the main event.
Chuck struts over to the end of the bar where the men are casting overt looks of want toward each other. He surveys his options. Longish blond hair left hanging around wiry shoulders - too girly. What would be the point? Short black hair and dark eyes - too narcissistic, even for him. The end of the bar is being propped up by a guy wearing brown hair flopping over uncertain blue eyes. A college experimenter, in from NYU’s film society or perhaps arts club, Chuck bets. He struts over, orders a bottle of champagne and pours his conquest a drink.
Apparently not everyone has Chuck’s same level of tolerance for champagne and two glasses later the guy is pushing his hand up Chuck’s shirt and making eyes toward the restroom.
A public stall - not a first for Chuck but hardly ideal; being pushed into it by a guy who has his hand down Chuck’s pants - now that’s a first.
Chuck scrambles for purchase on the wall, flaking plaster getting into his nails. He lets the guy pull his pants down, freeing the cock that’s already starting to harden.
“Want to suck your cock,” the guy mumbles.
“Be my guest,” Chuck smirks and presses his hands even firmer into the wall, the plaster fucking tearing out blood now, as the guy takes an experimental firm stroke up Chuck’s cock.
Chuck doesn’t want to look at the guy. His eyes stray to the graffiti on the door. Call Nathan for a good time. Chuck has a moment to smile before wet lips follow hand and Chuck’s thought processes completely jumble.
For a guy who gives off every aura of someone who has never done it before, the guy is pretty fucking awesome at sucking cock. He tantalizingly pauses, building Chuck up to the point where he’s pretty sure he can’t wait any longer, before backing off and giving tiny frustrating pecks that do nothing but drive Chuck crazy.
The guy takes Chuck deep and Chuck feels the familiar low pleasure starting to build, before a loud pop and cold air signal more frustration. Chuck bucks his ass off the wall, bumping his cock into the guy’s lips.
“Say you want it,” the guy says.
“Fuck.” Chuck shuts his eyes. He won’t be manipulated by this guy. He can’t not have those lips back on this cock. “Fuck I want it,” Chuck growls out, flicking his eyes open. The guy’s mouth closes around Chuck, and he hums and locks bright, strangely familiar eyes onto Chuck’s. Chuck doesn’t know which part made him come but he empties himself into the guy’s mouth with an embarrassing cry that he’ll deny later.
If he ever tells anyone.
His come is all over the guy’s chin and the guy sits back and wipes a hand slowly across his full lips.
Nate has cock sucking lips, Chuck thinks and he’s not sure he’s gained any answers at all.
**
Chuck has always had to give Nate a prod in the right direction and by that he means, the way toward rebellion and fun. Nate isn’t a natural rebel, preferring the fantasy of Blair and a marriage he clearly doesn’t want. All of Nate’s experimenting - the alcohol, the weed, his early sexual fumbles - have been orchestrated by Chuck.
Nate just doesn’t know it, or if he does it remains in that arena of subjects that don’t need to be discussed.
Like Nate watching Chuck fuck, which has not been mentioned. The fact of it rattles around Chuck’s brain, working itself into one plan or another, each more wild and ridiculous than the last.
Each ending up with Nate’s cock in Chuck’s mouth - or so he hopes.
Trouble is, for a master manipulator, Chuck isn’t sure how to go about talking Nate into this one. Money is out, ‘cause Nate isn’t impressed by that, and as for just asking - why bother, when there are easier ways to approach matters?
If only Chuck can work out what way that is.
Then Blair turns up alone, telling Chuck Nate and her are over, and that has never been a possibility. Perhaps Nate’s starting to listen.
In the meantime there is Blair. Drunk, Nate’s girl Blair. She’s forbidden territory, and that would make her hot in itself. The fact that fucking her would make manipulating her and Nate pretty damn easy is just an added bonus.
Chuck’s not sure that even he can pry open the iron legs of Blair Waldorf but heartbreak and public displays of skin seem to have lowered her inhibitions and she lets Chuck lower her panties in the back of his limousine.
Chuck kisses her mouth slowly, tasting the alcohol and the Nate on her breath. She smells of a very expensive perfume Chuck doesn’t recognize but he’s sure not going to forget it as he licks its smell off her neck and her newly exposed stomach. He loses its trail as he approaches her clit, and bends down and licks. It’ll be easier if she’s wet.
Blair gives a grunt of surprise that soon turns into panting and writhing and Blair calling him several filthy words he didn’t think she knew. But Blair was always full of surprises.
Chuck guesses eating her out isn’t on Nate’s list of activities, which is interesting. He tastes her as she comes, licking her while the shaking dies away.
While she’s wide eyed and panting, sprawled across the leather, he fumbles for his condom.
“I want you,” Chuck says. He isn’t sure what to add. Nate would have some whole speech. Nate would be doing it in a bedroom with candles and flowers. Chuck isn’t here to copy Nate. "Only if you want to..."
Blair nods and fixes her eyes on his cock as he frees himself and lines it up. He glances up, meets her eyes and waits for the nod, which she gives without a pause. He breaks her open, takes down the barrier she’d kept up for so long, entering a zone meant only for Nate. He stills as she gasps and watches her face as she adjusts. As she takes in their mutual betrayal. Then she leans forward and gives him a soft, tender kiss.
Chuck ignores the sadness that wells inside him, ‘cause they both want someone else to be giving them that sort of kiss, and satisfies himself with fucking her into the limo seat.
**
Chuck offered Nate the invite of course, carefully leaving out himself. Monaco: sunshine, cocktails and the finery of one of the Bass Empire’s most luxurious hotels. He points out that Nate shouldn’t rush things with Blair. Nate’s on the next plane out. Chuck allows himself the triumph of winning. Nate chose him, or his plan won - what’s the difference?
Nate arrives and they bar hop immediately, prowling the town with Martinis and American attitudes in hand. Blair keeps interrupting them by sending Chuck desperate begging texts, then fierce angry ones. All interspersed with the subtext of flirting, which is flattering.
Blair’s dangling on the hook Chuck left out for her. He suggests they send her a picture, loping his hand around Nate’s shoulders and being distracted by Nate’s returning hand on Chuck’s shoulder. Nate leaves it there a long beat, then throws it off with the overly bright smile Chuck’s seen him wear to many a family function.
Chuck downs another Martini at the next club. Nate’s matching him, drink for drink, which means Nate’s a bit drunker than Chuck, but not too much - Chuck’s trained him well.
“Mini-bar,” Nate suggests when the club dares close too early for the sunshine or their good time. Chuck swallows back his surprise that Nate suggested it before he could, and lets Nate take the lead in opening the (too small in Chuck’s opinion, but when did his father ever listen) champagne bottle the Bass Empire courteously provides for their pleasure.
Chuck watches Nate’s mouth close over the bottle, drops escaping and dribbling down Nate’s chin. Nate lifts the bottle away, and catches Chuck’s eye and holds it. He doesn’t wipe his mouth. He hands the bottle wordlessly toward Chuck and when Chuck seizes it, pulls it sharply toward him.
Chuck’s shoulder bumps into Nate’s. They pause, lips a breath apart. Nate smells of sweat and cigarettes. This isn’t a barrier Nate’s going to cross alone. Nate’s done more than Chuck could ever have hoped or arranged for, no matter how far he’d planned. If there’s fallout to be had, it’s Chuck that’s going to take it.
He closes the gap and takes Nate’s lips in his. They tremble, and Chuck gently touches Nate’s lip with his tongue, tasting a remaining bubble. Nate’s mouth opens and Chuck falls headlong into a kiss that tastes of alcohol and the forbidden.
Nate breaks the kiss to lick Chuck’s neck and reach under his shirt. His hands are rough as they pull at Chuck’s clothes. He mumbles words Chuck doesn’t understand into Chuck’s mouth but Chuck’s never heard anything better.
Chuck makes sure both their shirts are gone quickly, before there’s time for stopping. Then they’re kissing again, mouths slip sliding off each other in their haste. Chuck tries to slow it down but there’s no stopping Nate, who stills his hand over Chuck’s pants. Chuck pushes Nate firmly down onto the bed, trapping Nate’s hand awkwardly between them. Nate refuses to move it but he does growl into Chuck’s mouth and thrusts up against him. Chuck’s hard cock bumps into Nate’s and they writhe like that for a while, until Chuck can’t take the dry humping any more and reaches down and into Nate’s pants. He pushes them off as far as he can. He takes Nate’s hard, straining cock and strokes him firmly, listening to the noise Nate makes in response. Nate reaches for Chuck’s pants with the second stroke, eyes closed and fingers fumbling.
“Look at me,” Chuck mumbles and Nate’s eyes flicker open. Chuck holds his gaze as they fuck into each other’s hands, trying to set the same pace but Nate’s too fast and Chuck’s too slow. Chuck starts to lose focus, ‘cause the feel of Nate’s hand is hot and Nate’s making keening noise that Chuck’s afraid he’s matching.
Nate comes first and predictably slackens his hold but Chuck bucks forward into his fist and watches Nate’s face contorting, and that’s all he can cope with.
**
Chuck’s eyes open to an empty bed and when he looks further, a sullen Nate, sat on the couch.
“I want to marry Blair,” Nate says, quietly, directing no blame but taking none either. Nate pads out of the room, with only a brief backward glance toward Chuck before he disappears out of the door.
Chuck rolls over and buries his face into the pillow. If Nate can’t be pleased with actions that were of his own making - well, at least Chuck has some ammunition now. Chuck is what Nate wants, Chuck knows that now. If he has to use underhand methods to make Nate see that - so be it.
**
Spotted: C, back from happy holidays in sunny Monaco, wearing darker glasses and a deeper pout than usual. What happened to him over the break? What evil plan is he ruminating behind those shades? Whatever it is, it’s bound to be interesting. I for one will be keeping an eye out.
xoxo Gossip Girl.
Thoughts, crit, very much welcomed. If anyone feels like beta'ing/helping that would be grand and very much appreciated for I might tidy/work on this some more, and post to any comms. If I have time/feel happy about it in the morning! :)