The First Place You Were Mine

By: ChuckMeMondays

Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl. If I did, that limo scene would have been a little longer.

Summary: Chuck and Blair celebrate their wedding with a visit to a familiar room. M for mature content.

It feels like forever to Chuck before they're able to slip away from their impromptu reception. He's holding himself on a tight leash, having to sometimes take a physical step back from Blair when she brushes against him, the smell of her perfume curling around him, the nape of her neck teasing him.

Finally, he breathes a suggestion of leaving into her ear, murmuring that he wants to be alone. She glances around. Serena and Dan are wrapped up in a dance near them in the middle of the living room; Nate, Jack and Georgina are chatting over scotch at the bar; and Lily and Eleanor and Cyrus are gushing about the wedding and their children. Dorota is in the kitchen overseeing the putting away of the last of the food. No one's even looking at them anymore. Blair nods, and they simply walk out of the room.

Chuck rests his hands on her hips possessively and kisses her deeply as the elevator doors close. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her whole body toward his. They separate again only a second before the elevator doors open. Chuck stoops to pick up her train, places a guiding hand on the small of her back, and leads her out the front door to where his limo is waiting.

By some miracle, there aren't reporters camped out in front of the building wanting a quote about his father's death or the time he spent AWOL or their very quick marriage. They must be camped out waiting for him at the Empire. Luckily, he has no intention of going there.

He doesn't have to tell Arthur where to go - he sent him a text 45 minutes ago detailing the plan.

Blair climbs to sit across his lap to kiss him frantically as they ride, but he restrains himself from removing any of her clothes, even though memories of her champagne slip and their first time are flashing through his mind. If he gets her even half-naked, he knows, that'll be it. They'll end up on the floor of the limo and they'll be sleeping there, which is not how he wants to spend his wedding night.

He grins to himself as he kisses her neck, searching for that spot that makes her melt against him. God, he's so finicky with his demands for an actual wedding and his white suit and pale pink shoes and his perfect wedding night, it's almost like he's the bride. Well, he supposes, he has wanted to marry Blair for at least four years now. Longer than that, if he's being honest with himself. He waited long enough for his dream wedding. He's going to have it his way.

Arthur has to say his name twice over the limo's intercom for Chuck to realize they've stopped. He gently removes Blair from his lap and wipes any lipstick from his face. Then he rolls down the partition to thank Arthur and let him know he'd like to see him in the coming weeks to discuss his raise. He see's Arthur's brows furrow in confusion and then raise in surprise as he figures it out.

"Thank you, sir. Have a nice evening, Mr. Bass. Mrs. Bass."

Blair grins widely. "Thank you, Arthur."

Chuck takes a quick glance around to make sure there's no reporters - he thinks they're safe - and then opens the door. He exits and holds his hand out for Blair. When she steps out of the car, she looks at the building in surprise.

"The Palace?" she questions.

He just smiles and they go in. The doorman greets them, "Mr. Bass. Mrs. Bass."

The manager must have been keeping an eye out for the arrival, because he comes hurrying over as soon as they enter and starts guiding them toward the elevators. "Mr. Bass. Mrs. Bass. Congratulations," he greets. By this time, Blair's face is etched in a blinding smile and he's decided to give everyone who had a part in that a raise. "We've set up everything just as you asked, sir. You won't be disturbed for anything or anyone unless you call for service." He hands Chuck a key.

Chuck presses a few hundred-dollar bills into the man's hand. "Thank you, Jamison."

The elevator doors open and they step inside sans Jamison. "Let us know if there's anything you need. And congratulations again."

Blair smiles at him, pleased, as the doors close. She steps into his arms. "And when did you have time to set all of this up, Mr. Bass?" she questions, running a finger over his lapel.

He presses a single kiss to her neck. "I stepped into the foyer for a moment while you were talking with Serena and made some calls," he admits, feeling quite satisfied with himself. "I wanted everything to be ready. I knew I wouldn't have the patience to wait, Mrs. Bass."

The doors open. He takes her hand and leads her to a door. It's a second before she realizes they're not at the honeymoon suite or the presidential suite. They're at his suite. It's room 1812.

"Chuck," she says, tightening her hold on his hand.

"This is the first place you were mine," he says in explanation.

She smiles, eyes a little wet. He unlocks the door, pushes it open, and then sweeps her up in his arms. "Chuck!" she laughs in alarm. He carries her over the threshold and then sets her down again to shut the door behind them firmly and deadbolt it.

When he turns around again, time seems to stand still.

Because she's standing there, beautiful in her pale blue, floral, crystal Ellie Saab gown, and her intricate up-do, and her silver headband, and her rings, and she's watching him with a fond smile, and he's desperately in love with her.

In a second, he drags her back into his arms and kisses her the way he's wanted to all night. Intensely, wetly, devotedly, passionately, lovingly.

He should be tired. He can't remember the last time he slept, what with the almost dying on the plane and the allowing his father to fall from a roof to his death and the run from the law and the rushed marriage. He knows he didn't sleep at all last night, though he had kept one hand on Blair's form beside him all night. Everything before that is a blur.

But he's not tired at all. Maybe it's adrenaline or maybe it's love, but he's not sleepy. He's just rock-hard for her.

He realizes she has kicked off her shoes and led them toward the bed only after she drags her lips from his and turns around, giving him her back, wordlessly urging him to unzip her.

He does, fingers trembling the slightest bit from wanting her, though he'd never admit it and she'd never point it out. It's been so long. Monte Carlo feels like a hundred years ago. He loves her so much. He just wants to show her.

He slips the fabric from her shoulders and she shimmies a little. The dress falls to the ground and she steps out of it daintily. They leave the beautiful gown crumpled haphazardly on the floor.

Then she's just in her underwear. Blair in her underwear. It was one of the great adventures of his life.

Her white corset hooks in the front, he notes quickly, and he starts working the latches. She pushes his suit jacket from his shoulders and tugs free his bow tie. By the time he's freed her from the corset - which takes a minute because he knows from extensive experience with Blair's lingerie that the hooks pinch her if he goes too fast, and the thought of causing her even the mildest discomfort is completely abhorrent - she has pushed his pale blue suspenders from his shoulders and unbuttoned and untucked his shirt.

Then they're chest to chest and Chuck groans. He can't believe how good she feels. She's so soft, her nipples already starting to harden.

Blair reaches for the button of his pants. He reaches for her panties, shoving them down.

The second they're gone, his fingers are sweeping over her. She's already wet from the makeout session in the limo and he strokes her, reveling in the heat and slickness. He needs to get closer.

He urges her to sit on the bed and lay back, and then he drops to his knees, suspenders hanging and pants open. He pulls one of her soft, pretty thighs over his bare shoulder and then his mouth in on her. Blair gives a murmur of approval.

It's even better than he remembers, somehow (and he's remembered quite often and quite well). She smells so good and she's so wet, starting to drip over his chin. She tastes amazing. He brings two of his fingers into the mix, sliding inside easily, and he gives a little groan as the muscles inside her flutter around him.

The fingers of one of Blair's dainty hands sink into his hair and her nails scratch pleasantly at his scalp. He grins against her, listening to her pretty moans and breathless encouragement, and thinks that if he were any more happy he'd start purring like a cat.

"Love you," he mutters against her flesh, and apparently that's all it's going to take this time around. The way she comes is abrupt and quicker than he expected; a surprise to both of them. Her breath stops for a second and her back arches up.

He licks her through the aftershocks and then gently removes her thigh from his shoulder. He kisses the quivering, pale skin there and then trails his mouth up over her leg, lingering for a moment on the crease where her leg and pelvis meet. As his lips drop kisses over her flat abdomen and his tongue dips into her belly button, she reaches for him. On of her hands releases the bedspread from a death grip and comes to rest on his shoulder. His hands run up her sides. God, the shape of her.

His mouth starts to wander, wanting to kiss her everywhere at once. Her fingernails dig into his skin. "Chuck," she gasps as he reaches her breasts, eyes clenched shut with pleasure. "No more waiting. Come inside now."

What an idea, he thinks to himself, feeling stupid with lust and love. That sounds so good. He agrees, rising up, and she shoves his pants down just far enough. He settles himself atop her. The next second he's sliding home (right where he belongs, he thinks fuzzily), and she's so tight (always so tight) and hot and wet, and he's inside, looking down at his wife.

The thought freezes him. He stares down at her, and when he doesn't move she opens her eyes to look up at him.

"Chuck?" she questions, running a hand over his jaw.

"We're married," he breathes, reality hitting him.

She smiles brightly and wiggles beneath him. "I know."

He shakes his head, pulls out, and then thrusts back in sharply. She gasps and the force. "No," he continues. "Blair, we're married."

He thrusts again at a slightly different angle and she lets out a moan. "Oh, God. Yes, Chuck. Right there."

"We're married," he says again as he thrusts a third time, wrapping one arm under her tiny waist and pulling her up to meet him. "You're mine." He settles into a rhythm, and she's writhing against him as he says it again. "We're married and you're mine, Blair. Forever."

Her fingers clutch at him, leaving red scratch marks on his back and shoulders and upper arms and the nape of his neck and his chest. It might sting if it wasn't so fucking sexy. "Yes, Chuck," she says, lifting up to meet him.

It's not long before his thrusts grow erratic. He shifts his weight and lowers a hand to tease at her center. He stares down at her, saying, "Mine, my wife, I love you, Blair," in a confusing, jumbled mess. He can feel the cool metal of her engagement ring and wedding band on her left hand at the nape of his neck.

Then she comes against him with that familiar cry that he's been missing, dreaming of, for so long, and he's only a moment behind her, because she's his. Only his. For the rest of their lives, his.

He collapses on top of her and her arms wrap around him possessively. It takes him a moment longer to recover than usual, and eventually he reluctantly slips free of her with a groan and rolls off her, dragging her with him to lay half-across him.

They are silent for a while as their breathing slows.

Blair settles against him, stroking her pretty little fingers through the hair on his chest. "I love you," she tells him. She kisses his collarbone and cranes her neck to look in his eyes.

He smiles - the kind of real, true smile that he only ever gives to her. The kind that exposes the little gap between his front teeth, which he is a little self-conscious about, even though he'd never admit it to anyone. "I love you, too," he says.

He brushes his lips over the top of her head. Her up-do is a mess. Gently, he takes off her headband and starts pulling pins from her hair, dumping the accessories on the nightstand. She sighs in relief as a couple that she hadn't even realized were pinching come free. He runs his fingers through her long brown curls to make sure he got all the pins and it flows across her pale shoulder blades.

He wants to make love to her again, but the orgasm has suddenly forced the last 48 hours to catch up to him. The pull of sleep is overwhelming. He wraps an arm more firmly around her and lets all his muscles relax. She snuggles against his chest.

Chuck falls asleep knowing Blair will be with him when he wakes up. She'll be there every morning for the rest of their lives. For the first time in a long time - a really long time - he's happy.

-End-