FIC: Awareness is a Drug that Cannot be Denied :: part six :: Awareness is to Slight
Chuck realised that he didn’t know this Blair, carefree Blair, who enjoyed herself without constant fear of repercussions. With that thrilling thought in mind, he drank his sparkling wine, keeping the image of the stranger on stage burned into his retinas.
AWARENESS IS TO SLIGHT
Stop it, Blair whimpered inwardly to her unruly body the next morning as she showered. And dared not touch down there because, damn her vagina, but it ached, pulsated every so often as though -
Well, she needed to wash, period.
“Sleazy manwhoring motherchucker Basshole from hell,” she muttered to herself like a litany as she set to the task, careful to avoid her treacherous clit as much as she could, which was no easy feat. “Fucks every girl within range including, yes, me, and then throws them away like dirty rags. You fucker. You goddamn fuck-”
Her tirade was cut short when she inadvertently brushed her hard nub. Squeezing her eyes shut and her legs together, Blair let the wave of pleasure pass. Only then did she dare breathe again. “Damn you,” she hissed to the thing. “Can’t even shower in peace. Get over yourself.”
So she’d been well-fucked. So what? The guy had ended the night being every bit the jerk he’d always been. She’d only thought… Oh, what did it matter?
God, she’d had sex. With someone other than her boyfriend. Nevermind the fact that Nate wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. But it should have been him. It would have been… Gosh, this amounted to something pretty close to adultery.
Blair shut the tap with a resounding metallic clang that continued to ring in her ears for some time before the all-too-familiar urge to -
Crashing out of the pristine shower stall, Blair nearly tripped over her own feet on the wet tiles as she reached the toilet. There, the dry heaves began, her gut screaming and her body trembling as sobs racked her body in great waves.
What is wrong with me? she thought between two sharp breaths. This is not me. Sex should be… sex should be…
Oh God…
#
Indeed. Oh God.
As if she even believed in a God that had allowed the travesty of last night. Throwing her at the worst of wrong guys? Right. He’d really been laughing in His cape. Or, like, robes. Or whatever God wore in the clouds.
The sun caressing the few available inches of her skin, Blair stood before Holy Trinity Church, eyeing it from cross to ground. Well. She might not be religious but, inexplicably, churches never failed to draw her attention and awe her. Perhaps it was their majesty. Maybe the mysticism. The quiet. Who knew, but Blair, in looking at the stained glass windows before her, drew courage from deep within herself and squared her shoulders before ascending the steps.
Dipping her finger in holy water, Blair crossed herself like she’d been taught, her eyes finding the statue of the Virgin Mary with her glowing red heart. Then she found an empty confessional and gathered her thoughts.
“Good morning,” a deep, wise voice suddenly jarred her as the priest took a seat on the other side of the screen.
No time like now to be strong. “Forgive me Father for I’ve sinned.”
#
Drusella got treated to a sneer on his way out. There was a lightness to his step, a spring even. Regardless of the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink all night, Chuck felt oddly refreshed. Jovial. He contemplated wishing passers-by a good day, because he knew he’d have a tremendously fun one. Hello, torture.
But no, “have a good day” did not cross his lips. He didn’t want to jinx it. Ha, he couldn’t wait to make the frigid bitch whimper. Ducking his head, Chuck slipped into the waiting limousine - one of the perks of having a mostly absent father - and immediately spotted it. Froze.
Shit. She’d forgotten it in here.
Chuck belatedly registered pain and with some surprise, realised it came from his clenched knuckles. Slamming the door shut, Chuck sat against it, barely hearing the rumble of the moving vehicle under him. He stared at the offending object with a growing scowl.
Dammit. Couldn’t be helped. Picking it up with idle fingers, Chuck instantly saw a tumble of rich chocolate curls between his fingers in his mind’s eye. Her hair had smelled… like the rest of her. Honeysuckle. The scent still lingered in the air, very faintly but…
He brought the headband closer to his nose. Closed his eyes. Then closed a tight fist around it.
Let me go.
Chuck pushed the button to open the partition. “Let’s wander around a bit.”
#
“Mister Bass, I see Miss Waldorf exiting church. Would you like me to stop?”
Blair where? “Yes.” Chuck strained to see out his window but saw only a mid-meno woman who obviously never learned how to walk in heels. Scooting to the other side as the limo slowed, he then saw her on the opposite sidewalk as she reached it. No headband, dark curls bouncing with each of her confident strides. She wore black all over as though she was mourning someone - something like her virginity, most likely - and clutching a mourning veil in her hand.
How… peculiar.
Chuck rolled down his window and inwardly snorted when he arrived at level with her. The veil was in her hand because she had traded them for - how very Blair - black shades. She’d cleansed her soul of her sin but that didn’t mean she had to become the equivalent of an unfashionable nun outside of religious situations.
And she was definitely not a nun.
“Well this is the last place I’d expect to find you,” he teased cheerfully enough, finding his good mood had just exponentially expanded upon sight of her.
Was it just him or had she just winced at the sound of his voice? Annoyance soon replaced her trepidation. “Go away, Chuck. I’ve been given orders practically from God Himself to avoid you.”
And since when had anyone listened when someone when told not to look down a cliff? “Would you consider avoiding me over breakfast?” he shot out with a grin as he stroked a thumb over the headband in his loose fist.
He practically heard the Are you stupid? her expression plainly said. She made it so easy to unsettle her. “Sorry,” she said peevishly, “but as is tradition on the day before my birthday, I’m heading to the jeweller's to put some pieces on hold for Eleanor and-”
“Nate?” His thumb stilled even as his taunting grin deepened, hurting his cheeks. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be singing happy birthday this year.” As if he ever did of his own initiative.
“No one knows that Nate and I broke up,” she snapped, “and it’s going to stay that way so I can fix this.” Then her eyes hardened beyond steel as she went in for the kill. Christ, she knew him too well, and that was scary. “And I don’t think your best friend would still be your best friend if he knew-”
Hey there, girl, it takes two to tango. Blair was just as guilty as him in this. “If he knew how much I enjoyed the removal of a certain chastity belt in the back of this very limo?” On this very seat, as a matter of fact, Chuck realised as pieces of memories assailed him.
Blair’s face fell as she stopped, turning to him with a vulnerability and yet determination that unsettled him. The pounding in his chest dulled painfully as he realised he was… Nate had no idea what he had. No idea.
She stepped infinitesimally closer, pegging him with all that strength and pain. Mostly pain, and regret, and guilt. Oh yes, guilt, even as her eyes lit on his lips for but a second. “From this moment forward,” she said, her voice tremulous and higher than usual, “the events of last night will never be mentioned again. Is that clear?” Her voice actually shook at the end, shaking Chuck in turn before he refocused again.
Yeah, like he could forget. “Not as clear as the memory of you purring in my ear, which I have been replaying over and over…” much to his chagrin and disgust - in himself.
Blair’s eyes slammed to a space just next to his ear as her cheeks flushed. “Well erase the tape!” she fairly shrieked. “Because as far as I’m concerned it never happened.”
Perhaps he would have believed her had she actually been able to meet his gaze. But she didn’t. and so without thinking he growled, “I’ll see you at your party tonight.” Because the plan still stood. He’d make the bitch pay for jerking him around.
But she wasn’t done, and raw fear and frustration radiated from her in droves. “You’re officially uninvited!” she shot back, stalking off without a backward glance, leaving him to grind his teeth in frustration.
Perhaps in her perfect fantasies things always went according to her script. Maybe in her perfect world a tape could be destroyed, but in Chuck and Blair’s world, Chuck Bass was not Blair Waldorf’s lapdog.
“Never stopped me before!” He saw her flinch despite the growing distance.
Washington, Obama and company - better known as American History - would have to wait. He had an errand to run.
AWARENESS IS TO SLIGHT
Stop it, Blair whimpered inwardly to her unruly body the next morning as she showered. And dared not touch down there because, damn her vagina, but it ached, pulsated every so often as though -
Well, she needed to wash, period.
“Sleazy manwhoring motherchucker Basshole from hell,” she muttered to herself like a litany as she set to the task, careful to avoid her treacherous clit as much as she could, which was no easy feat. “Fucks every girl within range including, yes, me, and then throws them away like dirty rags. You fucker. You goddamn fuck-”
Her tirade was cut short when she inadvertently brushed her hard nub. Squeezing her eyes shut and her legs together, Blair let the wave of pleasure pass. Only then did she dare breathe again. “Damn you,” she hissed to the thing. “Can’t even shower in peace. Get over yourself.”
So she’d been well-fucked. So what? The guy had ended the night being every bit the jerk he’d always been. She’d only thought… Oh, what did it matter?
God, she’d had sex. With someone other than her boyfriend. Nevermind the fact that Nate wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. But it should have been him. It would have been… Gosh, this amounted to something pretty close to adultery.
Blair shut the tap with a resounding metallic clang that continued to ring in her ears for some time before the all-too-familiar urge to -
Crashing out of the pristine shower stall, Blair nearly tripped over her own feet on the wet tiles as she reached the toilet. There, the dry heaves began, her gut screaming and her body trembling as sobs racked her body in great waves.
What is wrong with me? she thought between two sharp breaths. This is not me. Sex should be… sex should be…
Oh God…
#
Indeed. Oh God.
As if she even believed in a God that had allowed the travesty of last night. Throwing her at the worst of wrong guys? Right. He’d really been laughing in His cape. Or, like, robes. Or whatever God wore in the clouds.
The sun caressing the few available inches of her skin, Blair stood before Holy Trinity Church, eyeing it from cross to ground. Well. She might not be religious but, inexplicably, churches never failed to draw her attention and awe her. Perhaps it was their majesty. Maybe the mysticism. The quiet. Who knew, but Blair, in looking at the stained glass windows before her, drew courage from deep within herself and squared her shoulders before ascending the steps.
Dipping her finger in holy water, Blair crossed herself like she’d been taught, her eyes finding the statue of the Virgin Mary with her glowing red heart. Then she found an empty confessional and gathered her thoughts.
“Good morning,” a deep, wise voice suddenly jarred her as the priest took a seat on the other side of the screen.
No time like now to be strong. “Forgive me Father for I’ve sinned.”
#
Drusella got treated to a sneer on his way out. There was a lightness to his step, a spring even. Regardless of the fact that he hadn’t slept a wink all night, Chuck felt oddly refreshed. Jovial. He contemplated wishing passers-by a good day, because he knew he’d have a tremendously fun one. Hello, torture.
But no, “have a good day” did not cross his lips. He didn’t want to jinx it. Ha, he couldn’t wait to make the frigid bitch whimper. Ducking his head, Chuck slipped into the waiting limousine - one of the perks of having a mostly absent father - and immediately spotted it. Froze.
Shit. She’d forgotten it in here.
Chuck belatedly registered pain and with some surprise, realised it came from his clenched knuckles. Slamming the door shut, Chuck sat against it, barely hearing the rumble of the moving vehicle under him. He stared at the offending object with a growing scowl.
Dammit. Couldn’t be helped. Picking it up with idle fingers, Chuck instantly saw a tumble of rich chocolate curls between his fingers in his mind’s eye. Her hair had smelled… like the rest of her. Honeysuckle. The scent still lingered in the air, very faintly but…
He brought the headband closer to his nose. Closed his eyes. Then closed a tight fist around it.
Let me go.
Chuck pushed the button to open the partition. “Let’s wander around a bit.”
#
“Mister Bass, I see Miss Waldorf exiting church. Would you like me to stop?”
Blair where? “Yes.” Chuck strained to see out his window but saw only a mid-meno woman who obviously never learned how to walk in heels. Scooting to the other side as the limo slowed, he then saw her on the opposite sidewalk as she reached it. No headband, dark curls bouncing with each of her confident strides. She wore black all over as though she was mourning someone - something like her virginity, most likely - and clutching a mourning veil in her hand.
How… peculiar.
Chuck rolled down his window and inwardly snorted when he arrived at level with her. The veil was in her hand because she had traded them for - how very Blair - black shades. She’d cleansed her soul of her sin but that didn’t mean she had to become the equivalent of an unfashionable nun outside of religious situations.
And she was definitely not a nun.
“Well this is the last place I’d expect to find you,” he teased cheerfully enough, finding his good mood had just exponentially expanded upon sight of her.
Was it just him or had she just winced at the sound of his voice? Annoyance soon replaced her trepidation. “Go away, Chuck. I’ve been given orders practically from God Himself to avoid you.”
And since when had anyone listened when someone when told not to look down a cliff? “Would you consider avoiding me over breakfast?” he shot out with a grin as he stroked a thumb over the headband in his loose fist.
He practically heard the Are you stupid? her expression plainly said. She made it so easy to unsettle her. “Sorry,” she said peevishly, “but as is tradition on the day before my birthday, I’m heading to the jeweller's to put some pieces on hold for Eleanor and-”
“Nate?” His thumb stilled even as his taunting grin deepened, hurting his cheeks. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be singing happy birthday this year.” As if he ever did of his own initiative.
“No one knows that Nate and I broke up,” she snapped, “and it’s going to stay that way so I can fix this.” Then her eyes hardened beyond steel as she went in for the kill. Christ, she knew him too well, and that was scary. “And I don’t think your best friend would still be your best friend if he knew-”
Hey there, girl, it takes two to tango. Blair was just as guilty as him in this. “If he knew how much I enjoyed the removal of a certain chastity belt in the back of this very limo?” On this very seat, as a matter of fact, Chuck realised as pieces of memories assailed him.
Blair’s face fell as she stopped, turning to him with a vulnerability and yet determination that unsettled him. The pounding in his chest dulled painfully as he realised he was… Nate had no idea what he had. No idea.
She stepped infinitesimally closer, pegging him with all that strength and pain. Mostly pain, and regret, and guilt. Oh yes, guilt, even as her eyes lit on his lips for but a second. “From this moment forward,” she said, her voice tremulous and higher than usual, “the events of last night will never be mentioned again. Is that clear?” Her voice actually shook at the end, shaking Chuck in turn before he refocused again.
Yeah, like he could forget. “Not as clear as the memory of you purring in my ear, which I have been replaying over and over…” much to his chagrin and disgust - in himself.
Blair’s eyes slammed to a space just next to his ear as her cheeks flushed. “Well erase the tape!” she fairly shrieked. “Because as far as I’m concerned it never happened.”
Perhaps he would have believed her had she actually been able to meet his gaze. But she didn’t. and so without thinking he growled, “I’ll see you at your party tonight.” Because the plan still stood. He’d make the bitch pay for jerking him around.
But she wasn’t done, and raw fear and frustration radiated from her in droves. “You’re officially uninvited!” she shot back, stalking off without a backward glance, leaving him to grind his teeth in frustration.
Perhaps in her perfect fantasies things always went according to her script. Maybe in her perfect world a tape could be destroyed, but in Chuck and Blair’s world, Chuck Bass was not Blair Waldorf’s lapdog.
“Never stopped me before!” He saw her flinch despite the growing distance.
Washington, Obama and company - better known as American History - would have to wait. He had an errand to run.