Kind of blushing as I post this. Porny one shot present for those above the age of consent who are interested in our couple doing such things. I had to get this out of my system as it kept me awake last night. Now I can get back to The O and the P.

I repeat this is M for sMut. You have been warned.

The driver is getting impatient. The meter's running and she doesn't care but she knows that Dan will. The rain drips down the windows of the cab. Dan's kisses are sweet. And long and heated and deep.

She pulls away from him. "Come up." It's not a question. There's no one home. She knows it. The Van der Woodsens were in crisis again. Over what, it was hard to care under the circumstances. But it does mean that Serena is staying at Prada for the night and the penthouse is empty.

He nudges into her cheek. "Are you sure?" His words are thick and close.

She's never been so sure. "I've never been more sure."

"Serena…"

That name on these lips will never cease to make her feel a little uneasy. But she shakes her head; everyone has their own particular cross to bear. She answers him by running her thumb over his bottom lip, wiping the word from it, pressing into the dip there. Wanting to follow it with her teeth.

It's a challenge to keep her hands to herself on the walk past the doorman. He nods his head and Blair ducks hers. Dan gives him a beatific smile.

She can hardly wait for the elevator door to slide closed. In fact she won't. His knee pushes between her legs. She can't seem to get close enough to him.

They stagger out into her hall. It doesn't take long for her Chloe to drop to the floor. Followed in turn by her Dolce and Gabbana bustier. They both know where this is going. Finally she's standing in the middle of her foyer in her stockings and her high heels and precious little else.

And Dan still has entirely too many clothes on. But she can't seem to get further than his tie. Her fingers have inexplicably become all thumbs. And he can't or won't tear his hands from her for long enough to assist.

She eventually moans with frustration, tugging at the offending material. His chuckle is low. She has more luck with his belt buckle. His laughter shudders to a stop.

He shucks the shirt off in one fluid motion and the heat radiating off his skin is like her own personal magnet. She wants him more than she could have ever thought possible. Him and no one else and the thought doesn't even scare her anymore.

His hands tangle into her hair. "I want you so much." Even his thoughts follow hers.

The dining table is the most convenient surface and it isn't long until she's perched atop it. He lowers her backward and then his mouth is everywhere. And his fingers. She can feel his teeth on her inner thigh. And the tremors that quiver through her threaten to overwhelm her and she doesn't stifle the cry that erupts from her lips.

He stands between her legs, his hands tracing lines up her body. She wants his mouth on hers. It's just as good though, teasing her nipple and she arches up from the table. But it's not enough. She sits up, reaching for his hips and slipping his boxers down. She can't help but open her eyes a little. Now she begins to understand why S always went back to him. He stands to attention, in a lascivious salute. All for her. Her greedy hands reach out and seize the length of him.

He presses his lips back down on hers. Thank you. She loves kissing. She loves kissing Dan. She loves the feel of his cock in her palm.

She hates the pause as his burning skin pulls away from her and he fumbles through his pockets for the hopeful condom in his wallet.

He slides back up between her thighs and Blair can't help the sigh that becomes a moan as her presses up against her. She is so wet, his hand lingers, easing his passage.

She doesn't realise she's holding her breath until he's fully submerged in her. It releases in a long shuddering gasp and he starts to find her measure.

His hands on her hips, pulling her closer, deeper. "Oh…sweetheart…you are..." His growl trails off.

She wants to hear it. "What am I?"

"You feel unbelievable. I've dreamt of this." His hands running down her stockinged leg.

Her loins feel heralding tingles at his words. She likes nothing more than the adoring words that fall from men's lips when she's fucking them. Wants to listen to the reverential tones in his honey voice. "More." He can interpret her word anyway he likes.

His throaty chuckle against her neck. "You are so tight. I could fuck you forever."

Her breath hitches. "You can try…" He presses her back upon the table and shifts her hips and the angle is just so. The remaining words on her lips dissolve into a whimper.

He grinds against her, pushing his thumb between her legs to increase the friction. Watching him watching her writhe before him. The long, slow, voluptuous strokes take her halfway to absolution. His other hand holds her thigh, pressing it higher. Running down her stockinged skin, her stiletto clad feet aloft. The small pants he rhythmically emits keep her paralysed, on the edge of an abyss. He is in so deep. And he won't retreat; she wants him to drop into the fathomless depths of her.

He curls over her, claiming her mouth. Her breath grows more erratic as he pounds, plunges. She can feel the vase rattling next to her head as the table jolts in time with his thrusts. She can't believe the keening she can hear is coming from her own lips. And suddenly she arrives, clenching around him.

His own oath is muffled against her shoulder. He slows, eventually stopping still buried within her. Dropping his head to hers. His kiss gentler, more tender, more searching.

His eyes meet hers and hold them.

There you are.