fic: All My Days (Chapter 1)
Title: All My Days
Couple: Dan/Blair
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Rating: T
Summary: Future-fic. Dan left NYC three years ago after a night that broke his heart. Now he's back...and facing the one person who broke it.
Disclaimer: I do not own GG or any of its characters.
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.
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Chapter 1
2015, Santa Monica
.
.
"Are you sure you have to go?" comes Adelaide's voice from the next room. "I mean...there's got to be better jobs in LA. We have tons of magazines here too!"
Laughing, Dan shakes his head. "Adelaide, for the last time...yes. I have to go. I told you I'd come visit."
Walking into the next room, he audibly sighs at the scene. "Really Addie? You're gonna do this to me twenty minutes before I have to leave?"
She's unpacked his carry-on suitcase and briefcase and has scattered everything across the floor. Jutting her bottom lip out, she gives a pathetic pout that makes him automatically forgive her. "Promise?"
He wraps her in a hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She smells like sunshine and SPF and honey, and it makes tears prickle in his eyes. "I promise."
"I'm gonna miss you so much," she whispers, hugging him more tightly.
He breathes her in once more. "Me too."
After another few minutes of embracing in silence, they part to re-pack his bags. Her, grudgingly; him, willingly. Once they finish, Dan takes one last walk through the apartment, before throwing his bags in the backseat of her convertible VW Bug. He's always hated it. It's bright pink and obnoxious and he feels absolutely ridiculous riding in it as a passenger, but it's so Addie he decides not to chide her about it today. He has thirty more minutes to soak her up and he doesn't want to waste it on silly arguments.
They make it to the airport more quickly than they'd like, and before they know it, it's time to say goodbye.
Tears fall down her cheeks as she hugs him one last time.
"Love you, Addie."
"Love you too."
She wipes away her tears. "Call me when you land?"
"Of course," he promises, backing away from her slowly. "Bye Ad." He takes one last look at the auburn-haired girl and then makes his way into the airport.
He tries to ignore the pain that throbs through his chest.
.
.
2015, New York City
.
.
"Blythe!"
A stab of fear runs through Blair's body at the voice, and she rushes into her boss's office in five seconds flat.
"It's actually...Blair," she corrects feebly, instantly regretting it. Her boss's eyes burn with anger. Surrounding her is yards of fabric, giant photograph options, and five terrified columnists.
If Blair weren't so scared, she'd laugh-leave it to her to live out the movie The Devil Wears Prada. The only differences being she's the assistant to the Editor-in-Chief at Elle, not Vogue, her boss is thirty years younger than Meryl Streep's Miranda Priestly, and unlike the movie's heroine, she has impeccable fashion sense.
Oh, and she doesn't have the bitchy Emily by her side. Thankfully.
"Well, Blair," her boss says, enunciating her name coldly, "why isn't Michael Kors on the phone? I asked you to have him on the line ten minutes ago."
Actually...she didn't. But with Tabitha Hutton, that's no excuse.
"Of course. I'll have him on in sixty seconds," Blair promises, backing out of the massive office.
"Make it thirty!"
"Right away!" Blair calls back, already dialing the memorized number. "Hello, Natalie? I have Tabitha on for Michael. Thanks." Pressing line one, she finally allows herself to breathe.
Honestly, Tabitha isn't all that bad. And this job really is the chance of a lifetime. (And most days, she loves it.) Tabitha was in her exact position five years ago and is now the magazine's youngest editor-in-chief in history. If she works her ass off, that could be her in a few years.
Feeling a headache coming on, Blair circles her temples with her fingers and groans. Last time she eyed the clock, it was 5:16. The day was almost over, thankfully; fourteen more minutes.
"G'day!"
The moment Blair looks up, she's immediately greeted by a camera flash.
"Must you?" she bites out, glaring. "It's not the time, Greer."
"Sorry! It's been a slow day. My baby needs to take a pic of someone," she says, plopping down on the spare chair and setting her camera on Blair's desk. "Bad day? How's the Cat?"
"Oh, you know..." Blair smirks, trailing off. "A million phone calls, errands, and a backorder on one of the most coveted fabrics of the season. Nothing too bad." She gives a wry smile, feeling better now that her friend is here. "So it's been a slow day for you?"
"Yeah. A photoshoot was cancelled last minute."
Blair's eyes widen. "Cancelled? That hardly ever happens." She watches Greer shrug. "How much money does it cost us? And oh my god does the Cat know-"
"You." At her voice, they both sit up straight, a shrill running down their bodies; both are wondering how much she'd heard. "You're from the photo department, right?"
Greer gives a slight, but firm, nod. "Yes, ma'm."
Tabitha makes a put-off face. "I'm only three years older than you. I may be your boss, but I'm too young to be called m'am."
"Yes, m-Tabitha. I'm a photo editor."
"Can you please explain to me why the photoshoot with Remy Calloway was cancelled this afternoon?" She continues before Greer can speak. "And why I'm being notified now? After five hours?"
"Oh, she showed up completely off her face."
Tabitha and Blair flash her an equally confused look.
"Right. American English," she says, laughing to herself. "She was totally wasted; showed up drunk." As Tabitha buries her face in her hands, Greer adds, "We tried to sober her up, but she was too far gone."
Their boss just nods and leaves them alone again. Thirty seconds later they hear her yelling into the phone.
"I wouldn't want to be on the other end of that call."
Blair can't help but laugh. "Neither would I."
"Gosh, that was a close one though, right? I nearly thought I'd be fired."
Blair frowns. "Let's not think of that, shall we? As long as you're here, I'm here. And vice versa."
And it's true. If it weren't for Greer, Blair probably would've quit on week two. But Greer made her promise that as long as she stayed, Blair stayed. We'll suffer together, is actually what she'd said. Beauty is pain, right?
Blair wasn't sure what had drawn her to the Aussie girl, but she's pretty sure it's because she immediately reminded her of Serena. She's like Serena in the way that she seems too bright for New York. She looks like summer-literally looks like summer-with dirty blonde hair that tumbles into beach waves, a slender body that makes every girl envious over, and a face that looks just as pretty with makeup as without.
Their personalities, though, are totally different, which makes Serena very happy. She'd teased Blair in the beginning about replacing her both emotionally and physically-in every sense of the word-but after spending time with Greer, she realized they were actually nothing alike. Greer's humor was sharp and witty, her style was much more preppy, and her Australian accent just put them on two different planes.
She works in the photography department at Elle; which means she both shoots on-location and edits photos for layout. Elle's photographers are notoriously known for having poor fashion sense-it's the reason they'rebehind the camera, as opposed to in front of it-but since that doesn't apply to Greer, every once in a while they let her help style the models. (On the days she enters Blair's office smiling and singing in her horribly off-key voice, Blair knows it's one of those days.)
But when it comes down to it, Greer is just a happy person. She makes days with the Cat-Greer changed it from Tabitha to Tabby Cat to just Cat-bearable.
(They use it as a codeword, just in case.)
Three years ago, when Blair had suffered through her darkest days ever, and Serena was still mad at her for everything that had happened, Greer was there to pick her up. And three years later, they were still as close as ever.
"What are you up to later? How's the fella?" Greer asks, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Every time she comes in here, it takes a total of thirty seconds to make herself at home.
Blair's phone buzzes. "Whit's taking me out to some restaurant," she says distractedly, checking the fifteen emails that have come in all at once. She wrinkles her nose at the messages and her friend. "And the way you say that makes him sound like my boyfriend."
Greer throws her head back in laughter. "Why is that so bad? You two are exclusive, aren't you? I mean, you've been going out for, what, five months?"
Blair sighs and begins to pack up her desk. "Yeah...almost six."
"Babe," Greer says, putting her hand over Blair's to stop her for a moment, "he's your boyfriend."
At that, Blair wants to cry.
Instead, she lifts her chin up. "Whatever. I don't want to talk about him."
"Fiiiine," Greer says, standing and picking up her camera. "Can I take you out for a drink before you have to meet him?"
Pulling her purse strap over her shoulder, Blair thinks for a moment. "After the day I've had, and the night I'm about to have, I would love a drink." She walks into Tabitha's doorway and knocks lightly on the glass panel. "I'll see you in the morning Tabitha. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call."
"Thanks, Blair. Have a good night."
See, Blair thinks, smiling. She can be sweet.
"Ready?"
"More than," Blair replies, switching off her desk light. "You're buying."
.
.
.
Nibbling on the peanuts at the table, Blair looks at her watch once more. He's twenty minutes late, which means she's already finished the drink Greer bought her before she left. She's a little tipsy.
She feels a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late, hun. My meeting ran over."
Hun? Blair fights a grimace.
He kisses her lips softly, before she responds, "It's okay. I know you're a busy guy." He just gives her a wink.
He is a busy guy; she knows that. Whittaker DuPont is from one of the most prominent and affluent families in the country. (One of the first things Whit had told her was that his family was responsible for the idea of the Louisiana purchase.) They date back to the 1700s, and over time their wealth has grown exponentially. He works out of the New York office of the DuPont company and is quickly making his way up the corporate latter.
He's smart, incredibly successful, and a complete bore.
To her, at least. Her mother was smitten with him, and Serena thought he was nice, but Blair wasn't very...sold.
In the middle of her senior year at Columbia, when she'd landed an internship at Elle, she'd sworn off all men and buried herself in work. It had paid off; the day of her graduation, she was offered a position at the magazine, and since then has worked to where she is now. It was only when she became satisfied with her career did she step back and start looking for someone again. She was perfectly fine with being single for a few years, but one day she came home from work and felt...lonely. It had been a month after Serena and Nate had eloped, and watching her friends fawn all over each other shifted something inside her.
She missed coming home to someone. She missed having someone in her bed, someone to help make dinner, someone to hold hands with, someone to kiss and love.
When she first met Whit, he was a total gentleman. She was immediately attracted to his looks: blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and a very put-together appearance. He had a cute sense of humor, a winning smile, and she admired the fact that he was close to his family.
But six months later, she's still waiting for that jittery feeling inside her. Their relationship is still new and exciting-they should want to spend all hours together, unable to keep their hands off of each other. As she watches him order a beer and pay attention to the basketball game instead of start a conversation with her, she realizes she's never felt fireworks with him. She's never felt the same spark she felt with...
Well, it's been a few years since she's had that feeling.
.
.
February 2012, NYC
.
.
It felt like a million fireworks were going off inside her body. As they sat at the dinner table at Per Se, Dan's eyes hadn't wandered from her. It was their official second date, and she could barely sit still. Neither could he.
Everything about her was sexy. From the way her throat worked when she swallowed a sip of water, to the way her tongue wet her lips after taking a bite of her salmon. He had to clench his fork more tightly to keep his hand from slipping below the table and wandering up her thigh.
He, on the other hand, looked devilishly handsome. Her hands itched to touch his sexy writer's scruff and fresh haircut.
Their conversation was full of what it always was: interesting topics and banter. Except this time, Dan added in flirty, sly remarks, while Blair teased him right back.
Dan wanted her and he wanted her now.
The waiter approached their table and held up a menu. "Would you two like any dessert this evening? We have some delicious selections tonight." She smiled. "Or should I just bring your check?"
Looking at Dan, Blair flipped her hair behind her shoulder with a sultry flick of her fingers, and rested her chin in her hand. The movement made her shirt lower and Dan's mouth went dry at the sight of her skin. He was so turned on he could barely see straight.
He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on Blair. "I think we're going to skip dessert tonight. The check will be just fine."
It seemed like ages by the time the waiter had returned his credit card. Grabbing her hand, he led her out of the restaurant as quickly as possible and into the dark alley behind the restaurant.
If it was any other time, Blair would've complained about the area and told him to hold off until they got home. But tonight...she needed him just has bad as he needed her.
Gently pushing her against the brick wall, he finally let his hands slide under her dress and up her thigh. She moaned into his mouth when he brushed his fingers along the already-wet scrap of fabric between her legs and she let out a breathy whimper when he pulled it down. "Dan" she breathed out, hastily unbuttoning his pants before taking him in her hand. His breath hitched when she slipped on a condom and they both moaned again when he slowly entered her.
The fireworks didn't seem to end with him. As he moved in and out of her, kissing her everywhere from her lips to her throat, he continually ignited her system. Her noises of arousal did nothing but increase his desire for her, and after one last thrust, they both came together. She continued to pant his name as she came down from her high, in between messy kisses and touches. She couldn't remember a time when she was this satisfied, and it thrilled her to think that she'd feel like this forever.
.
.
.
"Blair!"
"What?" she asks, snapping back into the present and to Whit.
"I said your name, like...twice."
She touches her damp forehead with a shaky hand; her heart racing heavily. "Sorry...I'm actually not feeling too well. Do you mind if we do dinner another night? Work seems to be wearing me down."
He looks concerned. "Are you sure? Want me to go with you and make some dinner?"
"No, no," she says quickly. "I'll be fine. Thanks for offering though." She leans over and kisses his cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow.
"Okay," he replies, his eyes already back on the game.
The ache she feels gets heavier and heavier with each minute that goes by. Sure, she's thought of Dan often, but some moments catch her off guard so completely, she isn't prepared for it. That memory was so clear, it felt like yesterday.
Once she closes and locks her front door, she finally allows herself to cry. Not only cry from his absence, but cry for the mistake she can't take back.
.
.
.
tbc
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A/N: Blair may seem a little different, but keep in mind she's a few years older and a bit more mature. Bitchy and feisty Blair is still there, though...don't worry :)
I would love reviews!
Couple: Dan/Blair
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Rating: T
Summary: Future-fic. Dan left NYC three years ago after a night that broke his heart. Now he's back...and facing the one person who broke it.
Disclaimer: I do not own GG or any of its characters.
.
.
.
Chapter 1
2015, Santa Monica
.
.
"Are you sure you have to go?" comes Adelaide's voice from the next room. "I mean...there's got to be better jobs in LA. We have tons of magazines here too!"
Laughing, Dan shakes his head. "Adelaide, for the last time...yes. I have to go. I told you I'd come visit."
Walking into the next room, he audibly sighs at the scene. "Really Addie? You're gonna do this to me twenty minutes before I have to leave?"
She's unpacked his carry-on suitcase and briefcase and has scattered everything across the floor. Jutting her bottom lip out, she gives a pathetic pout that makes him automatically forgive her. "Promise?"
He wraps her in a hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She smells like sunshine and SPF and honey, and it makes tears prickle in his eyes. "I promise."
"I'm gonna miss you so much," she whispers, hugging him more tightly.
He breathes her in once more. "Me too."
After another few minutes of embracing in silence, they part to re-pack his bags. Her, grudgingly; him, willingly. Once they finish, Dan takes one last walk through the apartment, before throwing his bags in the backseat of her convertible VW Bug. He's always hated it. It's bright pink and obnoxious and he feels absolutely ridiculous riding in it as a passenger, but it's so Addie he decides not to chide her about it today. He has thirty more minutes to soak her up and he doesn't want to waste it on silly arguments.
They make it to the airport more quickly than they'd like, and before they know it, it's time to say goodbye.
Tears fall down her cheeks as she hugs him one last time.
"Love you, Addie."
"Love you too."
She wipes away her tears. "Call me when you land?"
"Of course," he promises, backing away from her slowly. "Bye Ad." He takes one last look at the auburn-haired girl and then makes his way into the airport.
He tries to ignore the pain that throbs through his chest.
.
.
2015, New York City
.
.
"Blythe!"
A stab of fear runs through Blair's body at the voice, and she rushes into her boss's office in five seconds flat.
"It's actually...Blair," she corrects feebly, instantly regretting it. Her boss's eyes burn with anger. Surrounding her is yards of fabric, giant photograph options, and five terrified columnists.
If Blair weren't so scared, she'd laugh-leave it to her to live out the movie The Devil Wears Prada. The only differences being she's the assistant to the Editor-in-Chief at Elle, not Vogue, her boss is thirty years younger than Meryl Streep's Miranda Priestly, and unlike the movie's heroine, she has impeccable fashion sense.
Oh, and she doesn't have the bitchy Emily by her side. Thankfully.
"Well, Blair," her boss says, enunciating her name coldly, "why isn't Michael Kors on the phone? I asked you to have him on the line ten minutes ago."
Actually...she didn't. But with Tabitha Hutton, that's no excuse.
"Of course. I'll have him on in sixty seconds," Blair promises, backing out of the massive office.
"Make it thirty!"
"Right away!" Blair calls back, already dialing the memorized number. "Hello, Natalie? I have Tabitha on for Michael. Thanks." Pressing line one, she finally allows herself to breathe.
Honestly, Tabitha isn't all that bad. And this job really is the chance of a lifetime. (And most days, she loves it.) Tabitha was in her exact position five years ago and is now the magazine's youngest editor-in-chief in history. If she works her ass off, that could be her in a few years.
Feeling a headache coming on, Blair circles her temples with her fingers and groans. Last time she eyed the clock, it was 5:16. The day was almost over, thankfully; fourteen more minutes.
"G'day!"
The moment Blair looks up, she's immediately greeted by a camera flash.
"Must you?" she bites out, glaring. "It's not the time, Greer."
"Sorry! It's been a slow day. My baby needs to take a pic of someone," she says, plopping down on the spare chair and setting her camera on Blair's desk. "Bad day? How's the Cat?"
"Oh, you know..." Blair smirks, trailing off. "A million phone calls, errands, and a backorder on one of the most coveted fabrics of the season. Nothing too bad." She gives a wry smile, feeling better now that her friend is here. "So it's been a slow day for you?"
"Yeah. A photoshoot was cancelled last minute."
Blair's eyes widen. "Cancelled? That hardly ever happens." She watches Greer shrug. "How much money does it cost us? And oh my god does the Cat know-"
"You." At her voice, they both sit up straight, a shrill running down their bodies; both are wondering how much she'd heard. "You're from the photo department, right?"
Greer gives a slight, but firm, nod. "Yes, ma'm."
Tabitha makes a put-off face. "I'm only three years older than you. I may be your boss, but I'm too young to be called m'am."
"Yes, m-Tabitha. I'm a photo editor."
"Can you please explain to me why the photoshoot with Remy Calloway was cancelled this afternoon?" She continues before Greer can speak. "And why I'm being notified now? After five hours?"
"Oh, she showed up completely off her face."
Tabitha and Blair flash her an equally confused look.
"Right. American English," she says, laughing to herself. "She was totally wasted; showed up drunk." As Tabitha buries her face in her hands, Greer adds, "We tried to sober her up, but she was too far gone."
Their boss just nods and leaves them alone again. Thirty seconds later they hear her yelling into the phone.
"I wouldn't want to be on the other end of that call."
Blair can't help but laugh. "Neither would I."
"Gosh, that was a close one though, right? I nearly thought I'd be fired."
Blair frowns. "Let's not think of that, shall we? As long as you're here, I'm here. And vice versa."
And it's true. If it weren't for Greer, Blair probably would've quit on week two. But Greer made her promise that as long as she stayed, Blair stayed. We'll suffer together, is actually what she'd said. Beauty is pain, right?
Blair wasn't sure what had drawn her to the Aussie girl, but she's pretty sure it's because she immediately reminded her of Serena. She's like Serena in the way that she seems too bright for New York. She looks like summer-literally looks like summer-with dirty blonde hair that tumbles into beach waves, a slender body that makes every girl envious over, and a face that looks just as pretty with makeup as without.
Their personalities, though, are totally different, which makes Serena very happy. She'd teased Blair in the beginning about replacing her both emotionally and physically-in every sense of the word-but after spending time with Greer, she realized they were actually nothing alike. Greer's humor was sharp and witty, her style was much more preppy, and her Australian accent just put them on two different planes.
She works in the photography department at Elle; which means she both shoots on-location and edits photos for layout. Elle's photographers are notoriously known for having poor fashion sense-it's the reason they'rebehind the camera, as opposed to in front of it-but since that doesn't apply to Greer, every once in a while they let her help style the models. (On the days she enters Blair's office smiling and singing in her horribly off-key voice, Blair knows it's one of those days.)
But when it comes down to it, Greer is just a happy person. She makes days with the Cat-Greer changed it from Tabitha to Tabby Cat to just Cat-bearable.
(They use it as a codeword, just in case.)
Three years ago, when Blair had suffered through her darkest days ever, and Serena was still mad at her for everything that had happened, Greer was there to pick her up. And three years later, they were still as close as ever.
"What are you up to later? How's the fella?" Greer asks, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Every time she comes in here, it takes a total of thirty seconds to make herself at home.
Blair's phone buzzes. "Whit's taking me out to some restaurant," she says distractedly, checking the fifteen emails that have come in all at once. She wrinkles her nose at the messages and her friend. "And the way you say that makes him sound like my boyfriend."
Greer throws her head back in laughter. "Why is that so bad? You two are exclusive, aren't you? I mean, you've been going out for, what, five months?"
Blair sighs and begins to pack up her desk. "Yeah...almost six."
"Babe," Greer says, putting her hand over Blair's to stop her for a moment, "he's your boyfriend."
At that, Blair wants to cry.
Instead, she lifts her chin up. "Whatever. I don't want to talk about him."
"Fiiiine," Greer says, standing and picking up her camera. "Can I take you out for a drink before you have to meet him?"
Pulling her purse strap over her shoulder, Blair thinks for a moment. "After the day I've had, and the night I'm about to have, I would love a drink." She walks into Tabitha's doorway and knocks lightly on the glass panel. "I'll see you in the morning Tabitha. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call."
"Thanks, Blair. Have a good night."
See, Blair thinks, smiling. She can be sweet.
"Ready?"
"More than," Blair replies, switching off her desk light. "You're buying."
.
.
.
Nibbling on the peanuts at the table, Blair looks at her watch once more. He's twenty minutes late, which means she's already finished the drink Greer bought her before she left. She's a little tipsy.
She feels a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late, hun. My meeting ran over."
Hun? Blair fights a grimace.
He kisses her lips softly, before she responds, "It's okay. I know you're a busy guy." He just gives her a wink.
He is a busy guy; she knows that. Whittaker DuPont is from one of the most prominent and affluent families in the country. (One of the first things Whit had told her was that his family was responsible for the idea of the Louisiana purchase.) They date back to the 1700s, and over time their wealth has grown exponentially. He works out of the New York office of the DuPont company and is quickly making his way up the corporate latter.
He's smart, incredibly successful, and a complete bore.
To her, at least. Her mother was smitten with him, and Serena thought he was nice, but Blair wasn't very...sold.
In the middle of her senior year at Columbia, when she'd landed an internship at Elle, she'd sworn off all men and buried herself in work. It had paid off; the day of her graduation, she was offered a position at the magazine, and since then has worked to where she is now. It was only when she became satisfied with her career did she step back and start looking for someone again. She was perfectly fine with being single for a few years, but one day she came home from work and felt...lonely. It had been a month after Serena and Nate had eloped, and watching her friends fawn all over each other shifted something inside her.
She missed coming home to someone. She missed having someone in her bed, someone to help make dinner, someone to hold hands with, someone to kiss and love.
When she first met Whit, he was a total gentleman. She was immediately attracted to his looks: blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and a very put-together appearance. He had a cute sense of humor, a winning smile, and she admired the fact that he was close to his family.
But six months later, she's still waiting for that jittery feeling inside her. Their relationship is still new and exciting-they should want to spend all hours together, unable to keep their hands off of each other. As she watches him order a beer and pay attention to the basketball game instead of start a conversation with her, she realizes she's never felt fireworks with him. She's never felt the same spark she felt with...
Well, it's been a few years since she's had that feeling.
.
.
February 2012, NYC
.
.
It felt like a million fireworks were going off inside her body. As they sat at the dinner table at Per Se, Dan's eyes hadn't wandered from her. It was their official second date, and she could barely sit still. Neither could he.
Everything about her was sexy. From the way her throat worked when she swallowed a sip of water, to the way her tongue wet her lips after taking a bite of her salmon. He had to clench his fork more tightly to keep his hand from slipping below the table and wandering up her thigh.
He, on the other hand, looked devilishly handsome. Her hands itched to touch his sexy writer's scruff and fresh haircut.
Their conversation was full of what it always was: interesting topics and banter. Except this time, Dan added in flirty, sly remarks, while Blair teased him right back.
Dan wanted her and he wanted her now.
The waiter approached their table and held up a menu. "Would you two like any dessert this evening? We have some delicious selections tonight." She smiled. "Or should I just bring your check?"
Looking at Dan, Blair flipped her hair behind her shoulder with a sultry flick of her fingers, and rested her chin in her hand. The movement made her shirt lower and Dan's mouth went dry at the sight of her skin. He was so turned on he could barely see straight.
He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on Blair. "I think we're going to skip dessert tonight. The check will be just fine."
It seemed like ages by the time the waiter had returned his credit card. Grabbing her hand, he led her out of the restaurant as quickly as possible and into the dark alley behind the restaurant.
If it was any other time, Blair would've complained about the area and told him to hold off until they got home. But tonight...she needed him just has bad as he needed her.
Gently pushing her against the brick wall, he finally let his hands slide under her dress and up her thigh. She moaned into his mouth when he brushed his fingers along the already-wet scrap of fabric between her legs and she let out a breathy whimper when he pulled it down. "Dan" she breathed out, hastily unbuttoning his pants before taking him in her hand. His breath hitched when she slipped on a condom and they both moaned again when he slowly entered her.
The fireworks didn't seem to end with him. As he moved in and out of her, kissing her everywhere from her lips to her throat, he continually ignited her system. Her noises of arousal did nothing but increase his desire for her, and after one last thrust, they both came together. She continued to pant his name as she came down from her high, in between messy kisses and touches. She couldn't remember a time when she was this satisfied, and it thrilled her to think that she'd feel like this forever.
.
.
.
"Blair!"
"What?" she asks, snapping back into the present and to Whit.
"I said your name, like...twice."
She touches her damp forehead with a shaky hand; her heart racing heavily. "Sorry...I'm actually not feeling too well. Do you mind if we do dinner another night? Work seems to be wearing me down."
He looks concerned. "Are you sure? Want me to go with you and make some dinner?"
"No, no," she says quickly. "I'll be fine. Thanks for offering though." She leans over and kisses his cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow.
"Okay," he replies, his eyes already back on the game.
The ache she feels gets heavier and heavier with each minute that goes by. Sure, she's thought of Dan often, but some moments catch her off guard so completely, she isn't prepared for it. That memory was so clear, it felt like yesterday.
Once she closes and locks her front door, she finally allows herself to cry. Not only cry from his absence, but cry for the mistake she can't take back.
.
.
.
tbc
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A/N: Blair may seem a little different, but keep in mind she's a few years older and a bit more mature. Bitchy and feisty Blair is still there, though...don't worry :)
I would love reviews!