FIC: Anew
Author's note: Another thing I wrote at work today, during the last hour. I had to hide my sheets from people walking by hehe. But it was so worth it, and finally I'm producing something else than poems at work. This is a happy development! Not to mention that Friday I have the entire office pretty much to myself since everyone but me and another temp are clearing the place to party on Oka Beach. Potential for more work ficcing! I think I'll bring some of my WIPs and hope inspiration strikes.
Anyway. Post-2x25. And we all know Chuck's mind owns me right? Right. Moving right along...
An intimate moment between Chuck and Blair somewhere that was once cause for joy, then regret, and now healing.
ANEW
In the morning he wakes to a body pressed snugly to his thighs, his chest, his feet even, warmth seeping steadily between them. His fingers register the silk of a breast held loosely in his palm. He brushes his thumb where it’s been resting all night and the girl in his arms moves, but doesn’t wake completely.
Of all the things he’s discovered about her since she stirred butterflies within his chest, the fact that she is a heavy sleeper was always endearing and cause for a few delightful bouts of wandering fingers but now… now he is content with just laying there and being tame. The past few days have been a walking dream and he can allow her some sleeping ones while he basks in the simple, slow rise of morning and its mediterranean breeze blowing gently through sheer gauzy curtains that do not hide the sun.
Chuck is not a romantic. But he congratulates himself on choosing this first of several sunny destinations for their summer vacation. First letting loose words he’d never been so scared to utter, and now Tuscany.
He shouldn’t even have contemplated the choice. This particular spot feels like a bandaid for an old weeping gash, however. That they surmounted this obstacle is proof positive that they won’t be bogged down by old monsters.
That she accepted to follow him, that she accepted his umpteenth apology, that she let him replace the bad memory with several happier ones - laughing in the brisk waves, walking and shopping along the Gli Spacci for hours, dining and wining the finest, falling into bed and falling asleep only much later… She humbled him, there was no other word for it, and he… perhaps he still doesn’t deserve her, but he was nothing if not selfish. Especially now that he had her within his arms again. He won’t run; he won’t let her.
This is one of their quietest moments, and Chuck thinks they might be the best. He used to dread the morning, knowing his time with her, his time as simply a boy with a girl he knew like the back of his hand, was counted. Now… now he just can’t believe the time he’s wasted.
Blair stirs again, this time not from his lazy strokes.
Chuck can’t help it. He brushes his lips over her naked shoulder. There is nothing sexual about it. He’s had a taste of true intimacy, all bars down, and it’s addicting.
Blair turns her head toward him like a flower to the sun and smiles in half-sleep as she reaches up to tangle her fingers in his hair and bring him closer to the crook of her neck. Then arches back luxuriously into his lower body. “Good morning,”she purrs on a sleepy rasp.
“It is,” he remarks drolly, smirking into her skin.
It is a glorious day in Tuscany and they are done healing.
Anyway. Post-2x25. And we all know Chuck's mind owns me right? Right. Moving right along...
An intimate moment between Chuck and Blair somewhere that was once cause for joy, then regret, and now healing.
ANEW
In the morning he wakes to a body pressed snugly to his thighs, his chest, his feet even, warmth seeping steadily between them. His fingers register the silk of a breast held loosely in his palm. He brushes his thumb where it’s been resting all night and the girl in his arms moves, but doesn’t wake completely.
Of all the things he’s discovered about her since she stirred butterflies within his chest, the fact that she is a heavy sleeper was always endearing and cause for a few delightful bouts of wandering fingers but now… now he is content with just laying there and being tame. The past few days have been a walking dream and he can allow her some sleeping ones while he basks in the simple, slow rise of morning and its mediterranean breeze blowing gently through sheer gauzy curtains that do not hide the sun.
Chuck is not a romantic. But he congratulates himself on choosing this first of several sunny destinations for their summer vacation. First letting loose words he’d never been so scared to utter, and now Tuscany.
He shouldn’t even have contemplated the choice. This particular spot feels like a bandaid for an old weeping gash, however. That they surmounted this obstacle is proof positive that they won’t be bogged down by old monsters.
That she accepted to follow him, that she accepted his umpteenth apology, that she let him replace the bad memory with several happier ones - laughing in the brisk waves, walking and shopping along the Gli Spacci for hours, dining and wining the finest, falling into bed and falling asleep only much later… She humbled him, there was no other word for it, and he… perhaps he still doesn’t deserve her, but he was nothing if not selfish. Especially now that he had her within his arms again. He won’t run; he won’t let her.
This is one of their quietest moments, and Chuck thinks they might be the best. He used to dread the morning, knowing his time with her, his time as simply a boy with a girl he knew like the back of his hand, was counted. Now… now he just can’t believe the time he’s wasted.
Blair stirs again, this time not from his lazy strokes.
Chuck can’t help it. He brushes his lips over her naked shoulder. There is nothing sexual about it. He’s had a taste of true intimacy, all bars down, and it’s addicting.
Blair turns her head toward him like a flower to the sun and smiles in half-sleep as she reaches up to tangle her fingers in his hair and bring him closer to the crook of her neck. Then arches back luxuriously into his lower body. “Good morning,”she purrs on a sleepy rasp.
“It is,” he remarks drolly, smirking into her skin.
It is a glorious day in Tuscany and they are done healing.