Gossip Girl snippet: hang up your hang-ups (and climb into bed)
hang up your hang-ups (and climb into bed) [Gossip Girl, Chuck/girls, Chuck/Nate, adult, het/slash, 314 words, written for the Porn Battle V, prompts: substitute, morning, girls, original entry. Title from Piano Magic.]
Chuck Bass has expectations. He gets what he wants. Always. Anything else is unacceptable.
But he can also rationalize with the best: this-this isn't him being denied. This is him drawing matters out, teasing himself. When he gets what he wants - which he will, naturally, he's a Bass - it'll be all the better for the wait.
This is his choice.
So he barely touches Nate, nothing more intimate than a friendly arm slung around his shoulder, or a shared joint (fingers barely touching), or heads in close over some random confidence.
Best friends. Not less, not more. That's the way he's playing it.
When Nate sleeps over, it's always on the couch. And Chuck always has girls (two, one on each arm - it's his other trademark). It's easy to pretend, to ignore the fact that he knows Nate is listening, knows he's fumbling under the covers, hand on his cock as Chuck takes one girl doggy style, then eats out the other. Because Nate's pretending too, does it carefully under cover of the sounds the femme du jour makes, thinks Chuck never catches him looking.
Chuck sees him though, caught in the intricate series of mirrors around Chuck's bedroom. He's seen the look on Nate's face and come to it, harder than he's ever come with some slutty junior sucking his cock, however expertly.
It doesn't count though, not if Chuck has a mouthful of breast and a hand sticky with pussy. And he never lets himself wonder who Nate's imagining when he comes. He can't allow the unthinkable, that it might not be him.
Next morning, Chuck always kicks the girls out early, calls the maid to change his linens, and gets rid of the scent of them. He doesn't do breakfast with them. That's reserved for him and Nate alone.
Coffee and denial; they make a good start to the day.
//
Chuck Bass has expectations. He gets what he wants. Always. Anything else is unacceptable.
But he can also rationalize with the best: this-this isn't him being denied. This is him drawing matters out, teasing himself. When he gets what he wants - which he will, naturally, he's a Bass - it'll be all the better for the wait.
This is his choice.
So he barely touches Nate, nothing more intimate than a friendly arm slung around his shoulder, or a shared joint (fingers barely touching), or heads in close over some random confidence.
Best friends. Not less, not more. That's the way he's playing it.
When Nate sleeps over, it's always on the couch. And Chuck always has girls (two, one on each arm - it's his other trademark). It's easy to pretend, to ignore the fact that he knows Nate is listening, knows he's fumbling under the covers, hand on his cock as Chuck takes one girl doggy style, then eats out the other. Because Nate's pretending too, does it carefully under cover of the sounds the femme du jour makes, thinks Chuck never catches him looking.
Chuck sees him though, caught in the intricate series of mirrors around Chuck's bedroom. He's seen the look on Nate's face and come to it, harder than he's ever come with some slutty junior sucking his cock, however expertly.
It doesn't count though, not if Chuck has a mouthful of breast and a hand sticky with pussy. And he never lets himself wonder who Nate's imagining when he comes. He can't allow the unthinkable, that it might not be him.
Next morning, Chuck always kicks the girls out early, calls the maid to change his linens, and gets rid of the scent of them. He doesn't do breakfast with them. That's reserved for him and Nate alone.
Coffee and denial; they make a good start to the day.
//