I want someone badly
Pairing: Blair/Dan
Rating: R/NC-17? I can never tell the damn difference.
Word Count: 3508
Summary: A man's perspective could be helpful, Serena said, right before she abandoned Dan to go to class, leaving him alone on the receiving end of a dark glare from Blair. AU of 2x08.
Note: Yeeeah. 3000+ words of totally unrealistic s2 DB smut, because that’s what I should be doing at work. I was rewatching 2x08 and it drives me insane that Stumpy McDouche is allegedly the only person that can satisfy Blair, especially when he's being a class A dick as she's throwing herself at him and being so pretty and wearing really great shoes. He tells her she smells like desperation! Dan thinks Blair smells nice! Chuck sucks! So: shippy nonsense, pretty much. And since I'm working on a bunch of longer, more annoying, time-consuming things, I thought some fluff would be nice to post. Easier on my brain for sure.
A man's perspective could be helpful, Serena said, right before she abandoned Dan to go to class, leaving him alone on the receiving end of a dark glare from Blair.
"Dan can totally help you!" Serena had promised. Maybe she wouldn't have been so gleeful if she had known what Blair needed help with.
Still glaring, and with a tone in her voice like she's testing Dan, Blair informs him, "I've got an itch only Chuck can scratch and he won't oblige unless I tell him I love him."
Deeply uncomfortable, Dan offers, "Why don't you just try, uh...scr- scratching that...yourself?"
"Humphrey." She rolls her eyes. "Do you think I would be coming to you with my sexual dysfunction if I hadn't exhausted every other option?"
"And there are no other guys who can do this for you," Dan says doubtfully. "Except Chuck."
"Yes," she says tightly.
"Okay, I don't get what this guy has going for him," Dan says, "but I seriously doubt that no one but him knows how to give you an orgasm."
There's silence for a minute, Dan vaguely embarrassed by his word choice, and finally Blair says, "Hm."
There's silence for a moment, which Dan awkwardly breaks. "Have you ever had one with someone else? Besides Chuck?"
Sharply, eyes narrowed, Blair says, "Yes."
"Okay." Dan nods, more to himself than to her. "Have you – have you tried with anyone else?"
"God, Humphrey, no. Obviously." Blair purses her lips and crosses her arms, says snidely, "Why, are you offering?"
"Uh –" Dan has a moment of heart-stopping panic and his mouth dries up.
Her eyebrow arches. "Are you?"
"No," Dan says, and tugs at his collar. It's hot outside, isn't it hot out today? He's a little too aware of all the students milling around them; this seems like the kind of conversation Gossip Girl would kill to overhear.
Blair's scowl is smoothing into dark amusement and she leans over the table to taunt him. "Does Dan Humphrey honestly think he could make me come?"
Dan clears his throat and, more than he's embarrassed, he wants to meet the challenge in her eyes. Just to show her that she doesn't affect him. "I don't think it's as difficult as you're making it out to be."
Her other eyebrow arches, the picture of bemusement. "Is that a yes?"
Dan worries his lower lip with his teeth a moment. "That's a yes."
Blair sits back, observing him. "As though I would let you try," she says – but her voice sounds more considering than contemptuous. She glances towards the door Serena had left through. "It wouldn't make any sense."
Still tense, Dan agrees, "No sense. At all."
"Because you're a scholarship candidate with a dodgy haircut," Blair says, eyes traveling over him pityingly. But still – there's that edge of something else, something thoughtful in the way her gaze lingers on his mouth. "And I'm me."
"A haughty nightmare in designer heels," Dan supplies.
The hint of a smile curves Blair's mouth. "Yes. Exactly." She shakes her head a little and returns to the task at hand. "I was thinking I would disappear for a while. Give Chuck a taste of life without me."
"No, no," Dan shakes his head. "That's a terrible idea. Don't disappear, become unavoidable. Drive him crazy, wear him down." Dan drums his fingers on the tabletop, oh so casual. "You should be good at that."
Blair presses her lips together, thoughtful. "Well. Look who finally got a little interesting."
Dan crosses his arms. "I'm sure it's a fluke."
Dan's setting up at the gallery when Blair calls, a series of shrill complaints in his ear. "He was completely unmoved!" she finishes, accusatory. "I'm worse off than I was before, Humphrey, and I blame you."
"Look –" He hears Serena's distinctive laugh, echoing from somewhere in the gallery. He moves towards the door to the main room. "Uh, are you sure he wasn't just acting like it didn't work?"
Serena is there, giggling at the new artist and tossing her hair, putting her hand on the guy's arm and smiling. Dan feels a distant twist of jealousy.
"Humphrey!" Blair snaps. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Why are you trying so hard to get Chuck?" he asks suddenly, turning back into the café. "It hasn't worked out in the past. You're both just torturing yourselves at this point."
"Did I ask for your judgment?" she says. "I told you, only Chuck can –"
"I don't believe that," Dan says.
The line is quiet and then Blair says, "Put your money where your mouth is, Humphrey."
Dan goes to Blair's after school, trailing up the stairs after her and making sure not to touch any surface, like he's in a museum.
Serena had always been pleased with him, right? She'd seemed happy. She never complained. When he wasn't doing something right, she showed him how. They hadn't had a problem. So he should be pretty confident in his ability to make a girl come, right?
Except this isn't a girl, this is Blair.
They sit on her bed, tension so thick Dan could swallow it. Dan should leave. Dan is going to leave.
"Did you wash your hands?"
Dan glares at her. "Brooklyn isn't catching, Blair." She just stares at him expectantly. "Yes, I washed my hands."
"Okay." She nods and it strikes him that she's nervous – her hands smooth over her skirt, a little unsteady.
It makes Dan pause, and soften. "We don't have to do anything," he says and adds wryly, "We could just go buy you a vibrator instead."
She hits him hard with a pillow. "Come here, Humphrey." Before he has a chance to correct her, she corrects herself. "Dan."
Her fingers slip into the gaps between the buttons of his uniform shirt, just barely brushing his skin, and she pulls a little. He leans in as she leans back, his hands sinking into the bedding on either side of her. He's careful to keep his distance; no part of them is really touching, yet.
Dan bites his lip. "On a scale of one to ten," he says, "how fucked up is this?"
Blair shifts restlessly. "Get all existential on me later, Dan. Or, preferably, not at all. This is you having a problem and me having a problem and us solving it, together."
"I don't think it's that simple," he says, lowering himself onto her a little more, getting himself used to the thought of so much of her body touching so much of his.
"It can be," Blair says quietly. She trails a foot up his calf, knees coming up to cradle his hips. "Just kiss me, Humphrey."
Dan nods, uncertain as ever, and lays a hand on her cheek, kisses her for the first time.
Dan has only kissed a handful of girls in his life – Susan Xi in the seventh grade, Serena, Georgina, and those two summer girls. And Blair, now, he's kissing Blair. Blair is now one of those girls he's kissed. And it doesn't –
It doesn't suck.
Blair is an insistent kisser, forceful and handsy, pulling at his hair and grasping fistfuls of his shirt. Her mouth opens under his and she makes a tiny little noise, half a gasp. She's overwhelming.
She pushes until she gets Dan onto his back (there's no doubt in his mind she's the one running this show) so she can settle in his lap. The fold of her skirt parts to reveal the lace edge of one white stocking.
It's so different – Blair is so complicated, so many ties and laces and buttons that Dan is not looking forward to disentangling, and she's so tiny, so light, her weight in his lap is so inconsequential.
She's not Serena, also. She is definitely not Serena, or Serena-adjacent, or Serena-like. He doesn't know if that's good or bad, or neither.
"Are you somehow distracted?" Blair mutters into his mouth. "Is this not exciting enough for you, Humphrey?"
It's a joke, but also…Dan gets the sense it's not.
"I'm not distracted," Dan says, hands skimming up the backs of her thighs (god she's wearing garters who is this girl). They settle on her ass, skirt gathered up over his hands. He adds, because it's true, "You scare me."
She seems pleased by that.
Dan leans up to kiss her again lightly, questioning. "This working for you so far?"
Blair bites her lip. She has a nice mouth. "It's not terrible."
He kisses her bitten lip, the underside of her jaw, the line of her throat. Her perfume clouds him, classic and soft (Serena wore something sharper, spice and citrus), like the pages of books, like what Lisa Carol Fremont might smell like. When he gets to the collar of Blair's shirt, he hesitates and she takes over, pushing him back against the bed and tugging her tie loose, tossing it aside. Their eyes lock, breathing stilted, as she starts to unbutton her top. A moment later Dan's brain catches up; he pulls her shirt untucked and begins to unbutton from the bottom until their hands meet in the middle.
Blair laughs lightly and leaves him to get the last one. He pushes the shirt open and lets her shrug it off. She's pale (like him, he thinks, not like Serena; his hands on Blair's stomach are only a shade or two different) and her bra is little more than an old-fashioned scrap of silk. He wonders if she picked it out for him. Her nipples are hard.
His fingertips inch underneath it, just brushing her skin.
"Don't be such a girl," she breathes.
Dan suppresses a snort and pushes the silk nonsense away, hands sliding up to cover her breasts. He doesn't want to stare or anything, seeing as Blair probably wouldn't appreciate it, but it's kind of hard not to – her pale skin in the waning afternoon light coming in the window, her hair tumbling all mussed over her shoulders, the dark pink of her mouth (he can still taste lip gloss, all kissed away). He always knew Blair was pretty, objectively, but it's a whole different thing to have her like this in his arms.
But they're just scratching an itch, right? Right.
She unhooks the bra and throws it to the side; Dan traces her nipples and, experimentally, pinches one. Blair's breath hitches.
"You could do that again," she says, when he pauses.
"What?" Dan asks, playing dumb. He does it again, harder, watching for her reaction. "This?"
"Dan," she says, breathy and scolding. He does it again and she almost moans – he almost made her moan.
He wants to ask her to say his name like that again, but he doesn't.
Her fingers thread through his hand, tugging him forward. Dan runs his fingertips over her collarbone before putting his mouth there, kissing down her chest and over the slope of her breast, using his teeth, gently. Blair's grip on his hair tightens and her breathing goes shallower.
Blair squirms in his lap and Dan becomes hyper-conscious that her legs are on either side of his hips, that the heat of her is settled so solidly on him, that he's really fucking turned on. He thrusts up a little without meaning to and Blair does moan then, hands dropping to his chest to give herself more leverage as she rolls her hips down. Her fingers curl against his chest, grasping his shirt.
"Take it off," she orders and Dan complies, doesn't need to be told twice. He's glad he had the foresight to take off his tie before this business started, because it's hard enough to get his fingers to work his buttons.
Once it's off they're kissing again, pressed tight, skin-to-skin. Blair's arms wind around Dan's neck and he smoothes his hands down her bare back to the waistband of her skirt. Her skin is soft.
Dan rolls them over, fitting back within the span of her hips. Blair's fingers dig into his shoulder blades, trip down his spine and press into his lower back, urge him with little pushes to move against her. Dan rocks his hips but it's not nearly enough for him, all this fabric between them still, but from the way Blair's twisting and the little sounds she's making, it seems to be working for her. And that's the point, isn't it?
"Can I –" Dan starts but Blair cuts him off with a kiss. "Can I touch you?"
"In case you couldn't tell," Blair says, kissing along his jaw, "you already are."
"No, can I touch your –" Dan falters once again. He doesn't know how to ask for that, even though it's the whole reason he's here.
"Yes, Humphrey," Blair says impatiently. "Yes, you can touch me."
Dan nods but he's still hesitant as he slides a hand between them. He doesn't really do anything, doesn't stop the motion of his hips; he just lets his hand rest against her. It's startling, to feel the damp heat of her panties and to know that it's something he caused. He presses more firmly, tracing her through the fabric, and bites back a moan himself at how fucking hot she is beneath the material, how wet. He honestly cannot believe for a moment that this is his life, that this morning he woke up and went to school and now this is happening, this girl that looks at him like he's gum on her shoe is underneath him half-dressed and mewling.
"How do you –" he begins, falters. Blair is worrying a spot on his neck with her teeth. "How do you want to –"
Blair makes a little thoughtful sound and nips his bottom lip, sharply; Dan feels the spot flush hotly. "Your mouth," Blair decides, hand slipping into his hair again. "Can you manage that?"
Dan nearly shivers at the thought, feels a rush of prickling anticipation. "I can do that," he says.
Blair smiles slowly and bites her lip; she scratches at his scalp a little, almost friendly. "So do it."
Dan sits back and finds himself studying her; she looks so flushed and excited, pleased. She looks prettier than he can remember seeing her, and more relaxed. She looks like a different girl than the one he knows.
She kicks him lightly, more of a nudge than anything. "Get on with it, Dan."
Dan smiles and runs his hands up her legs, still clad in her stockings, until he reaches the tiny plastic clips of her garter. He undoes them fumblingly, without finesse, and doesn't bother removing the tights; just goes straight for her underwear, hooking his fingers around the sides and tugging them down.
Her eyes are bright. He touches the insides of her thighs gently and then, finally, touches her cunt. He strokes her a moment and watches the way her eyes fall closed and her brow furrows before finally, finally leaning down.
Blair's grip in his hair tightens painfully when Dan starts to go down on her, hands wrapped around her thighs to keep them open. He uses soft, teasing little licks until her hips begin to shift restlessly up and down, courting the pleasure and pulling away from it. Her legs fall open further, his hands slipping off them uselessly, and he slowly presses a finger inside her, licking around it; her body grasps him, pulls him in, and Dan slides in a another finger, and another, fucking her with them slowly, so slowly. He devotes his mouth entirely to her clit, sucking single-mindedly until the tremors running through her become more and more pronounced, her thighs trembling, her small noises more desperate, and he rubs his thumb over her there, kisses the spot, keeps working her over without pause until she comes apart with a sharp cry and then whimpers, all of her seizing up and then relaxing.
Dan kisses along the edge of her stocking, then her hipbones and stomach, his hand still rubbing idly between her legs until she jerks away. He kisses between her breasts, the soft center of her throat, her chin, and then her lips, open beneath his, her tongue in his mouth tasting herself. Blair presses her hands to his cheeks to hold him in place and kisses him thoroughly, hungrily.
He is so fucking hard.
After a moment Blair pushes him away, one hand still caught lazily in his hair, and giggles a little, breathlessly.
"So?" Dan asks (though what he really wants to ask is more along the lines of will you get me off now please).
"Passable," Blair says, but she's smiling at him in a way Dan is sure he has never seen directed his way.
"Good," he corrects. "Awesome. Mind-blowing."
"It was alright," Blair says sitting up and stretching. Dan brushes his knuckles over her lower back. "I didn't hate it," she teases, looking at him over her shoulder. Her eyes travel down his body. "And how are you doing there?"
He lets his hand rest on her waist, thumb sweeping over her skin. "How does it look like I'm doing?"
"I suppose," Blair says, her smile cheeky as she reaches for his belt, "I do owe you a thank-you."
"Yes," Dan says, perhaps too eagerly, and his hands join hers to help get his pants open. "Yes, that would be – that would be perfection."
Dan is an afterthought, a thank-you; he's fine with that.
Blair seems amused but her expression quickly changes to one of determination. She barely gets his trousers halfway down his thighs before bending to take him into her mouth. Dan groans; he expected teasing from Blair, though he doubts he would have been able to handle any. Instead she's purposeful and intent and she – she really knows what she's doing.
He doesn't touch her hair, doesn't touch her at all, doesn't want to take a liberty she won't appreciate. But he wants to; he wants so badly to bury his hands in her dark hair and tug a little, feel her rise and fall.
Instinct makes his eyes want to shut, tightly, but he'd rather watch her – the sweep of her hair over one bare shoulder, her prim posture with her knees tucked under her, the resolute little crease between her brows. And her mouth, of course, flushed pink, her mouth sliding down on him again and again and again.
It doesn't take him very long. Blair pulls away before he comes, her nose wrinkling in distaste, and Dan reaches down to work himself through it. Blair watches him with some interest and then says, "Don't think you can wipe your hand on my sheets. They're worth more than everything you're wearing."
Obviously seeing her naked has done some kind of drastic damage to Dan's brain because he just finds her vaguely amusing. Still, he rolls his eyes and settles for using the waistband of his boxers.
"Well," Blair says. She's still sitting between Dan's legs, hands folded on her lap. She looks like she does sitting on the Met steps, proper as anything, except for the nudity and general dishevelment. She pats Dan's knee companionably, a bit like he's a pet who brought her the paper. "Thank you."
"You already said that," Dan says. He's already kind of falling asleep, truth be told, and watches her through half-lidded eyes.
"Forgive me for being polite," Blair says loftily. She hops off the bed and heads for the bathroom; once she reaches the door she spins to face him, hands clasped innocently behind her. Dan is conscious of her nakedness, though she's still in her skirt and stockings, and how free she is with him, now. She tilts her head back to gesture at the bathroom. "You can come with me, if you want."
Dan sits up, more interested than he is tired. "Are you flirting with me, Waldorf?"
Blair purses her lips but doesn't seem annoyed at all – in fact he thinks she might be fighting a smile. "Don't press your luck, Humphrey."
The next day at school Dan finds himself searching for Blair amongst the crowd in the courtyard; he locates her mean girls but she's not with them. He wonders if she came to school today. He wonders if shame and embarrassment over sleeping with him has made her take to her bed like an illness. He wonders if maybe she's changed her mind about the whole thing, if post-post-orgasm she's once again decided he's a target and not a friend.
He heads up the steps and into the building, which is when someone knocks into his shoulder, hard. Dan turns to say something snarky and finds Blair with a little smirk on her face.
She walks backwards a few steps and looks pointedly from him to a door – a janitor's closet. Blair holds up her hand and raises an eyebrow. Five minutes?
Dan laughs to himself and nods, just barely. Five minutes.
Pairing: Blair/Dan
Rating: R/NC-17? I can never tell the damn difference.
Word Count: 3508
Summary: A man's perspective could be helpful, Serena said, right before she abandoned Dan to go to class, leaving him alone on the receiving end of a dark glare from Blair. AU of 2x08.
Note: Yeeeah. 3000+ words of totally unrealistic s2 DB smut, because that’s what I should be doing at work. I was rewatching 2x08 and it drives me insane that Stumpy McDouche is allegedly the only person that can satisfy Blair, especially when he's being a class A dick as she's throwing herself at him and being so pretty and wearing really great shoes. He tells her she smells like desperation! Dan thinks Blair smells nice! Chuck sucks! So: shippy nonsense, pretty much. And since I'm working on a bunch of longer, more annoying, time-consuming things, I thought some fluff would be nice to post. Easier on my brain for sure.
A man's perspective could be helpful, Serena said, right before she abandoned Dan to go to class, leaving him alone on the receiving end of a dark glare from Blair.
"Dan can totally help you!" Serena had promised. Maybe she wouldn't have been so gleeful if she had known what Blair needed help with.
Still glaring, and with a tone in her voice like she's testing Dan, Blair informs him, "I've got an itch only Chuck can scratch and he won't oblige unless I tell him I love him."
Deeply uncomfortable, Dan offers, "Why don't you just try, uh...scr- scratching that...yourself?"
"Humphrey." She rolls her eyes. "Do you think I would be coming to you with my sexual dysfunction if I hadn't exhausted every other option?"
"And there are no other guys who can do this for you," Dan says doubtfully. "Except Chuck."
"Yes," she says tightly.
"Okay, I don't get what this guy has going for him," Dan says, "but I seriously doubt that no one but him knows how to give you an orgasm."
There's silence for a minute, Dan vaguely embarrassed by his word choice, and finally Blair says, "Hm."
There's silence for a moment, which Dan awkwardly breaks. "Have you ever had one with someone else? Besides Chuck?"
Sharply, eyes narrowed, Blair says, "Yes."
"Okay." Dan nods, more to himself than to her. "Have you – have you tried with anyone else?"
"God, Humphrey, no. Obviously." Blair purses her lips and crosses her arms, says snidely, "Why, are you offering?"
"Uh –" Dan has a moment of heart-stopping panic and his mouth dries up.
Her eyebrow arches. "Are you?"
"No," Dan says, and tugs at his collar. It's hot outside, isn't it hot out today? He's a little too aware of all the students milling around them; this seems like the kind of conversation Gossip Girl would kill to overhear.
Blair's scowl is smoothing into dark amusement and she leans over the table to taunt him. "Does Dan Humphrey honestly think he could make me come?"
Dan clears his throat and, more than he's embarrassed, he wants to meet the challenge in her eyes. Just to show her that she doesn't affect him. "I don't think it's as difficult as you're making it out to be."
Her other eyebrow arches, the picture of bemusement. "Is that a yes?"
Dan worries his lower lip with his teeth a moment. "That's a yes."
Blair sits back, observing him. "As though I would let you try," she says – but her voice sounds more considering than contemptuous. She glances towards the door Serena had left through. "It wouldn't make any sense."
Still tense, Dan agrees, "No sense. At all."
"Because you're a scholarship candidate with a dodgy haircut," Blair says, eyes traveling over him pityingly. But still – there's that edge of something else, something thoughtful in the way her gaze lingers on his mouth. "And I'm me."
"A haughty nightmare in designer heels," Dan supplies.
The hint of a smile curves Blair's mouth. "Yes. Exactly." She shakes her head a little and returns to the task at hand. "I was thinking I would disappear for a while. Give Chuck a taste of life without me."
"No, no," Dan shakes his head. "That's a terrible idea. Don't disappear, become unavoidable. Drive him crazy, wear him down." Dan drums his fingers on the tabletop, oh so casual. "You should be good at that."
Blair presses her lips together, thoughtful. "Well. Look who finally got a little interesting."
Dan crosses his arms. "I'm sure it's a fluke."
Dan's setting up at the gallery when Blair calls, a series of shrill complaints in his ear. "He was completely unmoved!" she finishes, accusatory. "I'm worse off than I was before, Humphrey, and I blame you."
"Look –" He hears Serena's distinctive laugh, echoing from somewhere in the gallery. He moves towards the door to the main room. "Uh, are you sure he wasn't just acting like it didn't work?"
Serena is there, giggling at the new artist and tossing her hair, putting her hand on the guy's arm and smiling. Dan feels a distant twist of jealousy.
"Humphrey!" Blair snaps. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Why are you trying so hard to get Chuck?" he asks suddenly, turning back into the café. "It hasn't worked out in the past. You're both just torturing yourselves at this point."
"Did I ask for your judgment?" she says. "I told you, only Chuck can –"
"I don't believe that," Dan says.
The line is quiet and then Blair says, "Put your money where your mouth is, Humphrey."
Dan goes to Blair's after school, trailing up the stairs after her and making sure not to touch any surface, like he's in a museum.
Serena had always been pleased with him, right? She'd seemed happy. She never complained. When he wasn't doing something right, she showed him how. They hadn't had a problem. So he should be pretty confident in his ability to make a girl come, right?
Except this isn't a girl, this is Blair.
They sit on her bed, tension so thick Dan could swallow it. Dan should leave. Dan is going to leave.
"Did you wash your hands?"
Dan glares at her. "Brooklyn isn't catching, Blair." She just stares at him expectantly. "Yes, I washed my hands."
"Okay." She nods and it strikes him that she's nervous – her hands smooth over her skirt, a little unsteady.
It makes Dan pause, and soften. "We don't have to do anything," he says and adds wryly, "We could just go buy you a vibrator instead."
She hits him hard with a pillow. "Come here, Humphrey." Before he has a chance to correct her, she corrects herself. "Dan."
Her fingers slip into the gaps between the buttons of his uniform shirt, just barely brushing his skin, and she pulls a little. He leans in as she leans back, his hands sinking into the bedding on either side of her. He's careful to keep his distance; no part of them is really touching, yet.
Dan bites his lip. "On a scale of one to ten," he says, "how fucked up is this?"
Blair shifts restlessly. "Get all existential on me later, Dan. Or, preferably, not at all. This is you having a problem and me having a problem and us solving it, together."
"I don't think it's that simple," he says, lowering himself onto her a little more, getting himself used to the thought of so much of her body touching so much of his.
"It can be," Blair says quietly. She trails a foot up his calf, knees coming up to cradle his hips. "Just kiss me, Humphrey."
Dan nods, uncertain as ever, and lays a hand on her cheek, kisses her for the first time.
Dan has only kissed a handful of girls in his life – Susan Xi in the seventh grade, Serena, Georgina, and those two summer girls. And Blair, now, he's kissing Blair. Blair is now one of those girls he's kissed. And it doesn't –
It doesn't suck.
Blair is an insistent kisser, forceful and handsy, pulling at his hair and grasping fistfuls of his shirt. Her mouth opens under his and she makes a tiny little noise, half a gasp. She's overwhelming.
She pushes until she gets Dan onto his back (there's no doubt in his mind she's the one running this show) so she can settle in his lap. The fold of her skirt parts to reveal the lace edge of one white stocking.
It's so different – Blair is so complicated, so many ties and laces and buttons that Dan is not looking forward to disentangling, and she's so tiny, so light, her weight in his lap is so inconsequential.
She's not Serena, also. She is definitely not Serena, or Serena-adjacent, or Serena-like. He doesn't know if that's good or bad, or neither.
"Are you somehow distracted?" Blair mutters into his mouth. "Is this not exciting enough for you, Humphrey?"
It's a joke, but also…Dan gets the sense it's not.
"I'm not distracted," Dan says, hands skimming up the backs of her thighs (god she's wearing garters who is this girl). They settle on her ass, skirt gathered up over his hands. He adds, because it's true, "You scare me."
She seems pleased by that.
Dan leans up to kiss her again lightly, questioning. "This working for you so far?"
Blair bites her lip. She has a nice mouth. "It's not terrible."
He kisses her bitten lip, the underside of her jaw, the line of her throat. Her perfume clouds him, classic and soft (Serena wore something sharper, spice and citrus), like the pages of books, like what Lisa Carol Fremont might smell like. When he gets to the collar of Blair's shirt, he hesitates and she takes over, pushing him back against the bed and tugging her tie loose, tossing it aside. Their eyes lock, breathing stilted, as she starts to unbutton her top. A moment later Dan's brain catches up; he pulls her shirt untucked and begins to unbutton from the bottom until their hands meet in the middle.
Blair laughs lightly and leaves him to get the last one. He pushes the shirt open and lets her shrug it off. She's pale (like him, he thinks, not like Serena; his hands on Blair's stomach are only a shade or two different) and her bra is little more than an old-fashioned scrap of silk. He wonders if she picked it out for him. Her nipples are hard.
His fingertips inch underneath it, just brushing her skin.
"Don't be such a girl," she breathes.
Dan suppresses a snort and pushes the silk nonsense away, hands sliding up to cover her breasts. He doesn't want to stare or anything, seeing as Blair probably wouldn't appreciate it, but it's kind of hard not to – her pale skin in the waning afternoon light coming in the window, her hair tumbling all mussed over her shoulders, the dark pink of her mouth (he can still taste lip gloss, all kissed away). He always knew Blair was pretty, objectively, but it's a whole different thing to have her like this in his arms.
But they're just scratching an itch, right? Right.
She unhooks the bra and throws it to the side; Dan traces her nipples and, experimentally, pinches one. Blair's breath hitches.
"You could do that again," she says, when he pauses.
"What?" Dan asks, playing dumb. He does it again, harder, watching for her reaction. "This?"
"Dan," she says, breathy and scolding. He does it again and she almost moans – he almost made her moan.
He wants to ask her to say his name like that again, but he doesn't.
Her fingers thread through his hand, tugging him forward. Dan runs his fingertips over her collarbone before putting his mouth there, kissing down her chest and over the slope of her breast, using his teeth, gently. Blair's grip on his hair tightens and her breathing goes shallower.
Blair squirms in his lap and Dan becomes hyper-conscious that her legs are on either side of his hips, that the heat of her is settled so solidly on him, that he's really fucking turned on. He thrusts up a little without meaning to and Blair does moan then, hands dropping to his chest to give herself more leverage as she rolls her hips down. Her fingers curl against his chest, grasping his shirt.
"Take it off," she orders and Dan complies, doesn't need to be told twice. He's glad he had the foresight to take off his tie before this business started, because it's hard enough to get his fingers to work his buttons.
Once it's off they're kissing again, pressed tight, skin-to-skin. Blair's arms wind around Dan's neck and he smoothes his hands down her bare back to the waistband of her skirt. Her skin is soft.
Dan rolls them over, fitting back within the span of her hips. Blair's fingers dig into his shoulder blades, trip down his spine and press into his lower back, urge him with little pushes to move against her. Dan rocks his hips but it's not nearly enough for him, all this fabric between them still, but from the way Blair's twisting and the little sounds she's making, it seems to be working for her. And that's the point, isn't it?
"Can I –" Dan starts but Blair cuts him off with a kiss. "Can I touch you?"
"In case you couldn't tell," Blair says, kissing along his jaw, "you already are."
"No, can I touch your –" Dan falters once again. He doesn't know how to ask for that, even though it's the whole reason he's here.
"Yes, Humphrey," Blair says impatiently. "Yes, you can touch me."
Dan nods but he's still hesitant as he slides a hand between them. He doesn't really do anything, doesn't stop the motion of his hips; he just lets his hand rest against her. It's startling, to feel the damp heat of her panties and to know that it's something he caused. He presses more firmly, tracing her through the fabric, and bites back a moan himself at how fucking hot she is beneath the material, how wet. He honestly cannot believe for a moment that this is his life, that this morning he woke up and went to school and now this is happening, this girl that looks at him like he's gum on her shoe is underneath him half-dressed and mewling.
"How do you –" he begins, falters. Blair is worrying a spot on his neck with her teeth. "How do you want to –"
Blair makes a little thoughtful sound and nips his bottom lip, sharply; Dan feels the spot flush hotly. "Your mouth," Blair decides, hand slipping into his hair again. "Can you manage that?"
Dan nearly shivers at the thought, feels a rush of prickling anticipation. "I can do that," he says.
Blair smiles slowly and bites her lip; she scratches at his scalp a little, almost friendly. "So do it."
Dan sits back and finds himself studying her; she looks so flushed and excited, pleased. She looks prettier than he can remember seeing her, and more relaxed. She looks like a different girl than the one he knows.
She kicks him lightly, more of a nudge than anything. "Get on with it, Dan."
Dan smiles and runs his hands up her legs, still clad in her stockings, until he reaches the tiny plastic clips of her garter. He undoes them fumblingly, without finesse, and doesn't bother removing the tights; just goes straight for her underwear, hooking his fingers around the sides and tugging them down.
Her eyes are bright. He touches the insides of her thighs gently and then, finally, touches her cunt. He strokes her a moment and watches the way her eyes fall closed and her brow furrows before finally, finally leaning down.
Blair's grip in his hair tightens painfully when Dan starts to go down on her, hands wrapped around her thighs to keep them open. He uses soft, teasing little licks until her hips begin to shift restlessly up and down, courting the pleasure and pulling away from it. Her legs fall open further, his hands slipping off them uselessly, and he slowly presses a finger inside her, licking around it; her body grasps him, pulls him in, and Dan slides in a another finger, and another, fucking her with them slowly, so slowly. He devotes his mouth entirely to her clit, sucking single-mindedly until the tremors running through her become more and more pronounced, her thighs trembling, her small noises more desperate, and he rubs his thumb over her there, kisses the spot, keeps working her over without pause until she comes apart with a sharp cry and then whimpers, all of her seizing up and then relaxing.
Dan kisses along the edge of her stocking, then her hipbones and stomach, his hand still rubbing idly between her legs until she jerks away. He kisses between her breasts, the soft center of her throat, her chin, and then her lips, open beneath his, her tongue in his mouth tasting herself. Blair presses her hands to his cheeks to hold him in place and kisses him thoroughly, hungrily.
He is so fucking hard.
After a moment Blair pushes him away, one hand still caught lazily in his hair, and giggles a little, breathlessly.
"So?" Dan asks (though what he really wants to ask is more along the lines of will you get me off now please).
"Passable," Blair says, but she's smiling at him in a way Dan is sure he has never seen directed his way.
"Good," he corrects. "Awesome. Mind-blowing."
"It was alright," Blair says sitting up and stretching. Dan brushes his knuckles over her lower back. "I didn't hate it," she teases, looking at him over her shoulder. Her eyes travel down his body. "And how are you doing there?"
He lets his hand rest on her waist, thumb sweeping over her skin. "How does it look like I'm doing?"
"I suppose," Blair says, her smile cheeky as she reaches for his belt, "I do owe you a thank-you."
"Yes," Dan says, perhaps too eagerly, and his hands join hers to help get his pants open. "Yes, that would be – that would be perfection."
Dan is an afterthought, a thank-you; he's fine with that.
Blair seems amused but her expression quickly changes to one of determination. She barely gets his trousers halfway down his thighs before bending to take him into her mouth. Dan groans; he expected teasing from Blair, though he doubts he would have been able to handle any. Instead she's purposeful and intent and she – she really knows what she's doing.
He doesn't touch her hair, doesn't touch her at all, doesn't want to take a liberty she won't appreciate. But he wants to; he wants so badly to bury his hands in her dark hair and tug a little, feel her rise and fall.
Instinct makes his eyes want to shut, tightly, but he'd rather watch her – the sweep of her hair over one bare shoulder, her prim posture with her knees tucked under her, the resolute little crease between her brows. And her mouth, of course, flushed pink, her mouth sliding down on him again and again and again.
It doesn't take him very long. Blair pulls away before he comes, her nose wrinkling in distaste, and Dan reaches down to work himself through it. Blair watches him with some interest and then says, "Don't think you can wipe your hand on my sheets. They're worth more than everything you're wearing."
Obviously seeing her naked has done some kind of drastic damage to Dan's brain because he just finds her vaguely amusing. Still, he rolls his eyes and settles for using the waistband of his boxers.
"Well," Blair says. She's still sitting between Dan's legs, hands folded on her lap. She looks like she does sitting on the Met steps, proper as anything, except for the nudity and general dishevelment. She pats Dan's knee companionably, a bit like he's a pet who brought her the paper. "Thank you."
"You already said that," Dan says. He's already kind of falling asleep, truth be told, and watches her through half-lidded eyes.
"Forgive me for being polite," Blair says loftily. She hops off the bed and heads for the bathroom; once she reaches the door she spins to face him, hands clasped innocently behind her. Dan is conscious of her nakedness, though she's still in her skirt and stockings, and how free she is with him, now. She tilts her head back to gesture at the bathroom. "You can come with me, if you want."
Dan sits up, more interested than he is tired. "Are you flirting with me, Waldorf?"
Blair purses her lips but doesn't seem annoyed at all – in fact he thinks she might be fighting a smile. "Don't press your luck, Humphrey."
The next day at school Dan finds himself searching for Blair amongst the crowd in the courtyard; he locates her mean girls but she's not with them. He wonders if she came to school today. He wonders if shame and embarrassment over sleeping with him has made her take to her bed like an illness. He wonders if maybe she's changed her mind about the whole thing, if post-post-orgasm she's once again decided he's a target and not a friend.
He heads up the steps and into the building, which is when someone knocks into his shoulder, hard. Dan turns to say something snarky and finds Blair with a little smirk on her face.
She walks backwards a few steps and looks pointedly from him to a door – a janitor's closet. Blair holds up her hand and raises an eyebrow. Five minutes?
Dan laughs to himself and nods, just barely. Five minutes.