Will Not Remember, Cannot Forget

He should not have brought the necklace. He should have left it locked up in his suite. He is not going to give it to her, so bringing it is stupid. He knows this. He reminds himself of it during the entire limo ride, and the walk to the building, and the trip in the elevator, and even when he enters the party itself.

As he steps in through the doors, however, and his gaze lands on her, he thinks perhaps he will give it to her. Then she sees him and instantly makes a beeline for the balcony to avoid talking to him again.

Never fucking mind!

He’ll bestow it on some Brooklyn troll before he’ll ever allow her to have it.

Bitch.

But inexplicably he follows her outside, and the first words leaving his mouth are traitorous. “You ready for your present?”

Why had he said that? Why? Be strong, Bass! Don’t be a weak willed pussy! She’s just a girl. She’s just a –

“Ow!” he exclaims as she grabs him by the hair, wrenching his head down harshly. “If you wanted to play rough, all you had to do was ask!”

She glares, only releasing him to smile and wave with false politeness at some classmates hurriedly clearing the area. They know better than to stick around when Queen B is apparently pissed.

“You nauseate me!” she says, returning her attention to Chuck once the others have gone back inside.

“All this talk of how you have to be with Nate or the world will end,” he mocks. “Face it! It’s over.”

She sighs in exasperation. “You sound like a jealous boyfriend.”

Had he been that transparent?

“Yeah right,” Chuck scoffs. “You wish.” He swallows, his jaw tensing unconsciously.

Oh shit. Don’t look at her. Play it cool. Think Bogart. Think Casablanca. Think –

“No… you wish,” she says, examining his profile in the moonlight.

“Please!” he denies, chancing a peek at her. “You forget who you’re talking to.”

“So do you!” she counters. Her eyes narrow suspiciously.

Please let her drop it. Please let her not see. Please, God have mercy, please!

“Do you… like me?”

Fuck.

Why is this happening? Why? What has he ever done?

Okay, what hasn’t he done?

But seriously, wasn’t there anyone else out there more deserving of this humiliation?

For a second, he considers acting like her question is outrageous, but those chocolate orbs of hers are too perceptive. She will spot the truth instantly, and that unnerves him. He had not wanted to reveal his feelings towards her ever, least of all tonight after she had so clearly rejected him this morning, claiming that what he prized about all else was something that had never happened.

“…define like,” he scowls.

The shock on her face is worse than her reaction had been only hours before beside his limo. She shakes her head in unmistakable disgust, mocks his emotions, and like a vicious kick to the gut, tells him to murder the butterflies he feels whenever he sees her. And she smiles while she does it!

Mortified, he sneers at her and lies through his teeth. “Fine,” he grinds out. “It wasn’t that great anyway.”

“Thanks,” she retorts, and he has to remind himself that what he saw flash through her eyes was not pain, but merely wishful thinking on his part. Obviously she does not care for him enough to be hurt by his insult. She doesn’t care for him at all.

He stamps inside, silently fuming. How could he have been so stupid? So deluded? Last night had been nothing but meaningless sex, great meaningless sex, but meaningless all the same.

He runs his hands roughly through his hair. He has to let this go. He is honored to have played a small role in her deflowering, but it is time to move on. He is Chuck Bass after all. He needs to stop trying to pretend he’s a good guy. So he slept with his best friend’s girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Whatever. Been there. Done that. So why not leave this pathetic excuse of a party and find some hot blonde with huge breasts and legs for days to screw until he can’t even remember that no one enjoys their first time?

…except for her.

Goddamn it. Quit thinking of that!

He knows immediately when she reenters the penthouse suite. He can tell by the way electricity suddenly prickles in the air around him. Curse her and her ability to make him feel this way! He should go. Right now. Before he does something awful. But for some reason his feet will not propel him towards the door.

“Poor Chucky,” Georgina’s taunts like a ghost through his mind. He grits his teeth, bile rising.

This cannot be what his life has been reduced to. Yearning for one heartless bitch while the memory of another drives him insane? He must be in hell, or else karma has finally caught up with him. Either way, he should just fling himself off the roof of the Palace Hotel. Surely that would be better than this.

Across the room, he watches her from the corner of his eye, and when she heads back to the balcony, he takes note. He is not going to follow her, however. Absolutely not.

Oh God, why is he walking that direction? Why? Don’t go out there! Don’t give her another chance to laugh and scorn! Stop! Please stop. For the love of all that’s holy…

He steps out into the evening air.

That fucking settles it. Chuck Bass is a chump. A whipped chump chasing after a girl who doesn’t even like him! He is beyond pathetic.

She evidently thinks so too, because as he comes to stand behind her, she rolls her eyes. “Stalk me much?” she sneers.

Why does he keep doing this to himself? Only a masochist could ever love such a narcissist. And it isn’t stalking! ‘Stalking’ is such a harsh word. It is more like… obsessively observing.

She moves away, and hating himself even as he does it, he follows her. “What are you still doing up here all alone?” he asks.

“I don’t know where Nate is,” she sighs. “And he always calls me at midnight when it turns into my birthday.”
Not this time, Chuck thinks. “Well, I wouldn’t count on it tonight,” he replies, nonchalantly moving in for the kill.

Don’t do this Bass. Don’t set her up this way. Nathaniel said that stuff in confidence. She is never supposed to know. It will only hurt her.

“Precisely!”

Georgina’s voice again, grating inside his skull. But for the first time, he doesn’t shudder at the mental intrusion; he welcomes it, because the whore is right. This will hurt her. And he wants to hurt her. This girl has gotten under his skin and he wants her to understand exactly what it is like to mean nothing to someone who means everything to you. Wants to see those tears in her eyes and that look of recognition on her face. Wants to rejoice in her feeling as rejected as she has made him feel.

Glancing at Blair, he speaks again, his offhand tone making his comment appear like an afterthought instead of the carefully phrased attack it really is. “Doesn’t it strike you as just a little bit of coincidence the timing of everything?”

Curious, she looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well Nate suddenly decides he wants to get back together just moments after your mother puts the breaks on her deal with the Captain?” he says, unable to hide his smirk.

Blair blinks, incredulous. “So you’re saying that Nate is only pretending to like me and that he’s actually using me to get to my mother?” She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Doubt is such a wonderful emotion to prey upon.

“Yes, he would,” Chuck points out smugly. “If it was to help his family, you know he would.”

“Nate loves me,” she informs him, sounding more like she is trying to convince herself than him. Upon hearing the uncertainty in her words, Chuck smiles gleefully. Seeing his reaction, she bristles. “Whatever he’s doing, wherever he is, he will call me at midnight. You’ll see.”

Sometimes manipulation is so effortless.

“Care to make a wager?” he gloats. “If he calls, I’ll leave you alone forever. If he doesn’t, you spend the night with me.” Leering, he inclines his head, gaze focused on her lips, leaning closer, invading her space.

“I will not!” she spits, shoving him away.

“I thought you were sure,” he counters swiftly, neatly maneuvering her into a position where she has to agree to the bet or admit she is worried Nathaniel won’t call.

She glowers at him for a second, realizing what he has so skillfully done. “You’re gonna lose,” she threatens. “He’s never missed my birthday.”

With that parting shot, she stalks back inside and he watches her go. There is no way Nate is going to be calling this evening. Chuck, being the person behind the midnight calls in the first place, knows that better than anyone.

When Blair had turned nine, he had dared Nathaniel to phone hoping an angry Eleanor would answer instead. But she hadn’t, and Blair had been delighted with the impromptu ‘it just officially became your birthday’ greeting. A year later, Chuck had forced Nate to do it again, interested to see if she would remember, and she had. After that, it was a tradition. Every year on the eve before Blair’s birthday, even when he supposedly hated her, Chuck found himself arranging to be with Nathaniel so he could ensure that when the appointed time drew nigh, her cell would chime and her boyfriend would be on the line. Once he had even gone so far as to dial her number himself when Nate didn’t see the point of calling when they were both already at her party. “Because it’s romantic if you do!” Chuck had growled as he’d pressed the ringing phone into his friend’s hand before storming off. But now, he is done playing Cyrano. He isn’t going to remind his best friend before the moment slips past, and he is confident that Nathaniel, never one to be particularly astute anyway, won’t think of it on his own.

So while Blair Waldorf waits for a call that is never coming, Chuck Bass waits to witness her dreams getting crushed. And as the seconds wind down, he joins her at the makeshift bar where she is taking a shot of tequila.

“12:01,” he tells her, surprised not to have elation surging through him like he was expecting. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re smarmy. There’s a difference,” she sighs bitterly. “If you’re coming to collect, you can forget it.”

He ignores her jibe. “Turn around,” he says.

She grimaces. “You get grosser by the second.”

Exasperated, he gestures behind her. “You get older. Look!”

Then Serena appears holding a cake, everyone surrounding them, congratulating her on turning seventeen. “Happy birthday!”

“Make a wish, Blair!” the blonde beams.

“It already didn’t come true,” Blair whispers, the end of her sentence betraying how upset she is before she pushes her way through the crowd of well wishers. Standing at the bar, watching her go, Chuck feels… guilty. He blows out her candles for her, debating whether he should try to speak to her or leave her alone or speak to her after leaving her alone for a while.

He is still weighing his options, attempting to make up his mind when all at once, there is a cacophony of beeps and buzzes and chimes as everyone’s phones go off at simultaneously. That can only mean one thing. Gossip Girl has just sent out an alert.

Chuck pulls his cell from his pocket, deciding this message is very bad the second he sees what is on the screen.

It is a picture of a boy who is definitely Nate Archibald in the arms of a girl who is definitely not Blair Waldorf.

Shit.

“You know what, maybe she’s wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time,” Serena suggests, ever the optimist.

But when Blair walks into their midst, looking like she is in shock, the golden nymph’s hopefulness fades. “Blair, hey, I’m so sorry. I never would’ve thought this would happen.”

Trying to comfort their queen, Blair’s minions rally to her defense, taking her side immediately.

“I hope the slut gave him herpes!” one of them declares.

“The cheater totally deserves herpes!” echoes the second.

“He isn’t cheating,” Blair exclaims suddenly. “We broke up, okay? He was gonna get back together with me, but only so my mom would help his dad.” Then, meeting Chuck’s gaze, she adds, “You satisfied?”

Her face starts to crumple, and without warning, she hurries from the room, Serena chasing after her, Chuck left behind, immobile, wondering what the hell he has done, feeling like a supreme asshole.

He planned to hurt her, yes, wanted to, even. But not like this. Never like this. He expected her to feel the sting of rejection, not be publicly humiliated. He hadn’t anticipated that Nate would go out tonight with someone else and be photographed! Chuck’s words and Nathaniel’s behavior had combined to pierce her armor so thoroughly that emotion poured out of her unchecked, causing her to have to flee the room or risk sobbing in front of all her peers.

He has to fix this. Somehow, someway, he has to make this right.

Retrieving the unopened present he kept telling himself he wouldn’t ever give her, he follows down the hall towards the bedroom into which she had disappeared. He opens the door carefully, and regrets his part in the events of tonight even more as he spots her curled in a fetal position on the bed.

“I’m not in the mood, Chuck,” she sighs as she sees him, sitting up, valiantly trying to hide her sorrow in front of him. “This is pretty much the worst birthday ever.”

He sits beside her on the mattress and holds out the black gift box. “Maybe it can be salvaged,” he states.

“What is that? Our sex tape?” she asks sarcastically, rolling her eyes, before blinking in astonishment as he opens the hinged lid and shows the contents to her. “It’s the Erickson Beamon necklace,” she breathes.

Without replying, he lifts the platinum chain from the red velvet lining, and starts undoing the clasp, intent on her wearing it immediately. Understanding his purpose, she demurs, “No, I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he says firmly. Then more with look and gesture than words, he tells her that she is beautiful and worth so much more than the trinket he is slipping around her neck. He takes the time to adjust all the little charms so they fall straight, willing her to rebuild her usually impenetrable shield of poise and perfection, that dignified wall she uses to protect herself that had cracked in front of everyone when that Gossip Girl blast had arrived.

“I really am sorry,” he whispers, sincerity in every word. Meeting her gaze in the mirror, he sees not the alluring woman from last night, but a little girl lost and afraid. Blair Waldorf needs her life plan to function every bit as much as he does, and seeing her without it, that haunted quality the loss puts on her face, he wants to pull her close and reassure her that everything will be fine.

Unexpectedly, he finds himself taking her hand and placing a kiss on her shoulder, more tender than passionate, sensing that is what she needs right now. To be comforted and cherished and made to feel safe.

And he realizes he is strangely furious with Nathaniel. Upset at him for hurting her this way, for giving her up, for spending the night with some random blonde bimbo hours after they’d broken up and not even having the decency of being discreet about it. But mostly he is angry at his friend for not appreciating what a precious thing his ex-girlfriend had been. She was a girl who had stood by him loyally despite the Serena debacle and the year of lies and deceit simply because she loved him, faults and all, and only wanted to be loved in return. Chuck would give anything for her to care about him even half as much and Nate had discarded it like it was nothing, and although Chuck is grateful, he is still pissed. Deep down, he is jealous because Blair has stolen his heart so completely while he has yet to touch hers since Nathaniel has it and doesn’t even value it!

Selfish bastard.

Chuck lifts his head to look at her, and her hand is suddenly on his neck, pulling his mouth to hers. He doesn’t resist, and their lips meet easily. Maybe it is easy because it is right. His tongue ventures past her teeth, and the effect is almost instantaneous. Desire ignites between them, and she pushes him into the mattress, deepening the contact as he reaches up to caress the bare skin of her arms.

Abruptly, he turns his face, ending the kiss. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” she inquires as he pulls back, standing.

“Shhhh!” he hisses. Quickly he strides across the room and peers out into the deserted hallway. “Odd, I could have sworn…” His voice trails off as he shuts the door, engaging the lock. He turns around and is startled to see her inches from him. She steps forward, closing the small space between them so fast that the impact sends him stumbling into the wall with a quiet thump.

“Careful, princess,” he admonishes softly before she stretches up for another kiss. Her tongue entices his lips apart, invading the confines of his mouth, and he finds her newfound assertiveness incredibly arousing. His hands clutch at her hips, grinding her pelvis into his as they try to devour each other.

With a forceful jerk, she untucks his shirt and slides her palms under the fabric. Her fingers trace the contours of his abdomen, his chest, his shoulders, until with an impatient sound, she breaks away. “Off,” she commands. He blinks at her in confusion, his brow furrowed. “Take it off,” she elaborates, plucking at the silky material, “Or I’m going to ruin it.”

He laughs at that, shrugging off his jacket and starting to undo the buttons of his shirt as she takes advantage of his preoccupation to rub his throbbing erection through his trousers. He groans, struggling with his cufflinks, eager to touch her similarly. Then thinking to hell with it, he rips the material to free his hands so he can reach under her dress to cup her ass and hoist her into the air. As her feet leave the floor, she squeals before he rotates them and presses her against the door. The bulge in his pants is positioned precisely between her thighs, and she gasps at the delicious friction, arching into him and wrapping her legs around his waist to increase the pressure.

“God, I want you,” she whispers, tilting her head so Chuck can kiss a blazing trial from her jaw to her ear and along her neck. As his tongue licks at her collarbones, she undulates in his arms, bucking against his hardness, craving the feel of his body within hers.

Still supporting her weight, he walks backwards until he bumps into the edge of the bed a step sooner than he estimates he will. Losing his balance while overcorrecting, he topples over onto the orange and cream blankets, Blair landing sprawled atop him.

“Very suave, Bass,” she snorts.

“I’m glad you’re amused,” he growls, bringing her giggling lips to his once more. He buries his hands in her hair as they kiss, fingers methodically pulling out pins until the chestnut curls cascade around her shoulders, wild and untamed. That accomplished, he leans back to appreciate the view, tracing the neckline of her gown, finger dipping seductively into the hollow of her cleavage.

“You’re not wearing a bra, and this needs to come off,” he nods, reaching behind her for the zipper. After it is lowered, his hands stray under the tulle skirts, lifting the entire thing over her head in one graceful motion. And before she even recognizes what is happening, he flips her so that he is in the dominant position, nestled between her thighs, grinning wickedly. “Much better.”

Propping himself up on an elbow, he drinks in the sight of her exposed chest, seemingly adorned by the necklace glittering around her throat. “Oh God,” he groans, his face sinking to capture one of her rosy nipples in his mouth. He laps at the hardening peak, sucking gently until she begins murmuring his name over and over, massaging his scalp. When he raises his head, she makes a small sound of protest until he lavishes attentions on the other breast.

Next he sits back on his heels, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her tights, stripping the silken stockings down her shapely legs along with her underwear. Drawing her knees up, he tests her readiness, inserting two fingers into her ample wetness, flexing them in a beckoning gesture. Her lips part in a wordless sigh, her eyes rolling back, as he continues pleasuring her this way. Only when her spine bows, her moans turning to inarticulate cries as she tenses in expectation and her head thrashes on the pillows, does he withdraw, leaving her nearly sobbing in frustration at having been denied release.

“Chuck, please don’t stop,” she begs.

“I want to feel you to cum on me,” he says in a terribly husky voice, divesting himself of his trousers and tearing open a foil packet.

“Hurry,” she pleads, reaching for him hungrily as soon as the condom is unrolled. But instead of crawling over her, he grabs her hands and pulls her to her feet. Whirling her around, he guides her onto all fours on the bed, nudging her thighs apart.

“Chuck?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at him uncertainly.

Then he brushes the swollen head of his cock against her entrance and her face sinks to the coverlet with a low moan. Smirking, he teases her, rubbing between her slick folds tantalizingly without ever actually penetrating. She keeps trying to rock herself back upon him, and only his hands upon her waist prevent her from succeeding.

“Please, Bass, please,” she whimpers, her hands repeatedly kneading at the bedspread. “Oh fuck, please!”

“As you wish,” he smirks. But instead of surging forward, he pulls back as he bends over her, nuzzling her neck until she shivers, arching upwards like a cat. A sigh of contentment escapes her ruby lips and her lids drift shut, her whole body relaxed and fluid beneath him.

Then with astonishing speed, he thrusts into her, his thick length invading her core. She cries out at the sudden feeling of fullness as her tight sheath stretches to accommodate him, but the sound is one of bliss and not pain. He curves an arm around her, pulling them both upright until she is on her knees. “Open your eyes, Blair,” he urges softly against the tender skin of her throat.

She does, gasping when she sees their lovemaking clearly framed in the mirror opposite them. In the reflection, their dark gazes meet, faces hovering side by side, and he smiles at the incredible feeling of intimacy as she leans back against him, her head resting upon his shoulder.

The embrace deepens as he folds around her instinctively, cupping one breast, thumb grazing over the tawny nipple as his other hand skims deftly over her belly and into the triangle of ringlets between her thighs.

“Chuck,” she moans as his fingers expertly circle that sensitive nub at the top of her slit.

“Watch yourself, princess,” he breathes into the shell of her ear, his eyes never leaving hers. “Realize how beautiful you are.”

And only then, as she sees herself as he has always seen her, does he begin moving within her molten center, sliding in and out in long smooth strokes.

His pace is slow, almost agonizingly so, and yet soon they are both breathless, glistening with sweat, clinging together, striving towards a fulfillment that comes not from the building tension within their loins, but from each other.

And as the rush of passion at last crests over them, their heads turn almost simultaneously. Their lips come inexplicably together in a kiss as their bodies entwine one final time, and for a brief second it appears as if they really are one.

Then they collapse onto the bed, spent. Chuck uses the last of his energy to draw her to him before closing his eyes in utter satisfaction. When he awakes hours later, Blair is still there, safe and secure, snuggled into the cocoon of his arms, a tiny smile on her face as she dreams.

It is in this moment, when he feels a sense of peace settle over him as he looks at her instead of panic, that he understands that this is the girl he is going to marry. Not next week or next year. But someday. He is sure of it.

He allows himself to hold her for a few more minutes, breathing in the scent of her hair. Then he gets up carefully so as not to rouse her. He smiles as her arm reaches out, unconsciously searching for him once he is gone before he pulls the blankets up over her. He dresses silently and places a gentle kiss on her temple before he slips quietly from the room with one lingering glance at her sleeping form.

He doesn’t want to go, but he knows he must. Because while he knows she is destined to be his wife, she does not. So right now, Blair Waldorf is like one of the Arabians his father used to own, magnificent and powerful, but easily spooked and impossible to stop once they’ve bolted. And if he is going to get her to realize what is so evident to him, he is going to have to pursue her with the same approach he would use with one of those beautiful thoroughbreds. He is going to have to go slow, with patience and persistence, so she doesn’t run away before admitting she does love him every bit as much as he loves her.