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After years in this world, Dan wouldn’t say that he’s uncomfortable at these sorts of parties anymore. He’s learned to wear the costume (it helps that Blair loves him dressed up so much), he knows when and how to tip the bartender, what kinds of hors d'oeuvres to avoid at all costs (if he never sees another quail egg for the rest of his life, it’ll be too soon), and as the years have unfolded, he has more than enough people to talk to: colleagues and contacts from his publisher and his freelance work, friends made outside of the boundaries of the Upper East Side, and he’s even found friends with Blair’s colleagues at the magazine, made over double dates and coffee runs and cocktail parties such as this one.

It’s not that he’s entirely uneasy in this world the way he used to be, it’s just there are so many other things he’d rather be doing instead: writing, reading, cooking, going to the movies, or a gallery, or a concert, or just staying at home, preferably with Blair.

But that’s the thing, Blair is here too. And while Dan has learned to adapt, learned to enjoy himself at events like these, she just shines. Always has. Even when they’re inevitably separated into conversations with other people, carried across the room, she is never hard to find, radiant, commanding the attention of whomever she wants, completely in her element. He’s so in love with her.

(She’s like that at home, too, of course, completely in her element, glowing and relaxed and open in a way that only a privileged few get to see. Like him. He never wants to take it—take her for granted.)

He’s looking at her now from a post at the parlor’s mahogany bar, having taken his leave of Blair’s colleague Bowen and his husband—great guys, easy to talk to, but Dan’s mind isn’t really on small talk right now. She’s talking to...someone, Dan can’t place the name with the face, but it’s one he’s seen a dozen times before, one of Lily’s friends, if he remembers correctly. Even from here, he can tell from her face that Blair is woefully disinterested, and is searching for an out at the earliest opportunity. The older woman leans in, sets a heavily-ringed hand on Blair’s forearm, and says something with a conspiratorial bent, before popping back and laughing. Blair nods, her smile thin and strained as she nods along to the other woman’s laughter, and delicately plucks the hand off her arm. Dan has to bite back a laugh of his own.

Blair’s gaze flicks to him then, like she already knew where he was standing, like she could always find him in a crowd. Something in her eye flashes, and she smiles again, for real this time, meant only for him.

She makes her excuses to the high society matron, and then saunters forward, beaming at him.

“Pick a number between one and ten,” she says as soon as she reaches him.

“Uh - five?” he answers quickly, caught off guard. “Why?”

She hums, nonchalant, reaching up to grab at his tie, lightly running it through her fingers, “Middle of the road. I like that.” She gently guides him down until her lips brush the shell of his ear. “That,” she whispers, “is how many times I’m going to come tonight before I let you.”

Fuck. He’s glad for the bar behind him, leaning back for support. He clears his throat, straightening up to see her grinning at him wickedly, red lips and a glint in her eye to match. “And you were willing to go all the way up to ten?” he asks, in a vain attempt to sound casual, “Ambitious, don’t you think?”

She chuckles, her free hand slipping underneath his jacket to settle on his waist, he can feel her hand splayed over him through the thin fabric of his shirt. His outfit feels very hot all of a sudden. “Don’t sell yourself so short, kitten.”

He takes a deep breath, trying and failing not to shiver. Blair’s grin widens. She knows she has him.

She pulls away from him suddenly, and then Dan really does have to grasp the bar for support.

“Find me in ten,” she murmurs before slinking away.

Dan knocks back the rest of his drink, knowing it's going to be a long night. In the best way.


Dan finds Blair as instructed, and she yanks him into the venue’s ostentatiously overdone bathroom. He presses her into the door, hand between her legs, rubbing through her underwear until she shudders, dripping through the silk and onto his fingers. She was already so wet when they’d begun, Dan wonders how long she’d been thinking about this before approaching him.

And that’s the first.

She kisses him deeply, soundly, until his legs go weak, and then she’s pushing him down onto his knees in front of her. Dan takes the hint, hiking her skirt up higher, slipping off the soaked silk but leaving her stockings on. He plays at taking his time, lifting a leg over his shoulder, kissing up the insides of her thighs, but Blair makes a noise of frustrated desperation, fisting a hand his hair and yanking him where she wants him to be. He moans into folds, then wastes no more time, fucking her with his tongue until she’s shaking.

And that’s the second.


They only stay at the party a half-hour more, because after Dan finds the panties she’d slipped into his pocket on the way to say hello to her editor-in-chief, there was really no point in staying any longer.

Blair sets a hand on his thigh on the cab ride home, but does nothing else until they get inside their apartment, maneuvering him to sit on their couch between hard biting kisses, undoing his tie and tossing it aside so she can leave apple red prints of her lips on his neck.

He tries to pull her onto his lap, but she breaks away, shaking her head with a smile. She turns her back to him, standing upright while he sits, making a show out of undoing the zipper at her back, tugging on it slowly, letting the expensive fabric fall around her. She steps out of the gown, still wearing her heels, her thigh high stockings, her strapless bustier. Venus reborn. Dan’s hands twitch at his sides, aching to touch her.

Then, she finally goes to him, straddling his lap, but when his arms go around her, she shakes her head, clucking her tongue, and grasps his wrists, pushing his hands into the couch cushion next to his shoulders.

She places a kiss on his forehead, his cheek, then his lips, dropping lipstick marks all over him. “Just watch, sweetheart.”

Fuck. He nods, trying to remember how to breathe, and her hand pets through his hair in approval before it travels between her legs. She braces herself with another hand on his shoulder, writhing in his lap, more than half-naked while he’s still got his fucking jacket on.

It’s torture, not being able to feel her, all he can do is what she’d ordered him to do, so he watches: her teeth digging into her bottom lip, the flush on her face spreading all the way down to her belly button, her eyes going glassy as she touches herself, her head tipping back as she gets close.

He can hear her too, the low whimpers which rise into high-pitched moans, her breathing going shallow, and his along with it, her plaintive refrain of Dan, Dan, Dan, that pulses in his dick, painfully hard with nothing to do about it but watch, and listen, and love her, fuck, he loves her.

He doesn’t realize he’s said it until after the last syllable leaves his mouth, and Blair meets his eye, looking straight at him when she comes.

And that’s the third.

She slumps down onto him, bringing his arms around her to hold her as she comes back down, he rubs her back, buries his face in the crook of her neck, trying to keep a hold of himself.

Blair pulls back after a time, hooking a finger under his chin to bring him into a kiss, soft, sweet. She smiles at him when she breaks away, carding a hand through his hair, and he keens into the touch automatically. Then, she rises, extricating herself from his lap, setting her hands on her hips, all authority again. “Bed,” she orders, in a decisive way that makes Dan shiver. “Naked and on your back.” She leans back down for one more kiss before sending him away. “And don’t even think about touching yourself,” she murmurs dangerously against his lips.


He has no clue how long he lies there, hands clenched at his sides, waiting for Blair. His arousal is ever-present, flickering right under his skin like a fever, muddling his brain, also like a fever. Then, he hears the creak of her closet door. His head turns, following the sound, and there she is, completely bare now, makeup removed, the elaborate updo she’d had for the party undone, her hair tumbling in soft waves around her shoulders, long enough to swoop over the tops of her breasts.

“Look at you,” she says. His thoughts exactly.

She climbs up on the bed next to him, coasting a light touch over his chest. “So pretty. All laid out for me.”

It’s the first time all night she’s touched his bare skin, and it sparks, that sharp, flickering heat breaking up to the surface.

“So gorgeous,” she muses, “and all mine. Aren’t you, my beautiful?”

“Yours,” he breathlessly agrees. Hers. All hers.

She hums appreciatively, pressing kisses to his chest, his neck. She nips at his collarbone, then a nipple, and he jolts, a whimper escaping from him.

“You’re being so patient, so good for me,” she croons, kissing his cheek, then down his neck. He’s so distracted by her mouth that he doesn’t notice her touch traveling lower until she wraps a hand around him. He moans, bucking up into the touch, eyes falling closed.

“So eager, my love,” she keeps stroking him, catching the precum with a swirl of her thumb. “And so wet for me, too.”

He moans again, head twisting, the pleasure building up with no way to get away from it.

Her lips are at his ear again, her breath hitting his skin in a constant shiver as she speaks, “You’re desperate, aren’t you, kitten? You want to come so badly.”

Dan can’t summon up a response, it’s all he can do to breathe.

“Ask me,” she orders, “ask me if you can come.”

“Blair, please,” he breathes, “please, can I come?”

Time freezes in a long, hot, agonizing halt of a second, then:

“No,” she answers coldly. One of her hands squeezes at the base of his cock, the other’s nails dig harshly into the skin of his abdomen. “No, you can’t.”

Dan shudders, breathing raggedly, biting down hard on his lip, hands fisting into the bedding beneath him, but he holds on, holds out, with a completely involuntary noise of protest.

“Shhh,” Blair soothes, smoothing a hand over his hair, all sweetness again. “We’re not at five yet, remember? Don’t you want to wait? Don’t you want to be good for me?”

He makes another noise that’s meant to be agreement, then Blair’s lips find his.

“You’re doing great, Dan,” she whispers, sincere, “I love you so much.”

He blinks his eyes open so he can find her and kiss her again, “I love you, too,” he mumbles against her lips, and then she’s pulling away from him again. He tosses his head back onto the bed, a whine slipping through his lips, the want in him too sharp and pleasurable to filter.

Blair’s not far away, though, and doesn’t keep herself away long, only pulling back to climb on top of him, scooting forward until she’s hovering above his face. Dan licks his lips, waiting for her.

“Mine,” he hears her whisper, and then she’s lowering herself onto him, and his mouth takes over, the taste and feel of her on his tongue the most familiar, most known. Bracketed in by her thighs, her hands in his hair, he lets her lead, but gives her everything he can, knowing just how to unravel her like this.

She moans above him, one hand scrabbling to grab his, lacing their fingers together. “Dan,” she pants, “you’re so - ah - so good at that. So good.”

She’s close, he knows it, knows her. He brings his free hand to her, curls fingers inside her, and is rewarded with a moan and a sharp tug on his hair, which only causes him to groan against her, a cycle with no viciousness.

“Wait,” Blair all but cries out, “wait.”

Dan is terribly confused, but halts, head and hand dropping back to the bedding beneath them, frowning puzzledly up at Blair as she lifts up away from him.

“I think,” she finally starts to explain, settling down to straddle his hips, that wicked smile of hers returning to her face, “that I’ve been making it too easy for you.”

“Have you?” he manages to eke out, heart pounding from the way Blair drapes herself over him, she’s so close, so close to—

“You are,” she murmurs, swiping her thumb over his lips, his chin, “entirely too good with that pretty mouth.”

She surges up to kiss him, tasting herself on him, moans escaping his mouth into hers.

“And I,” she continues after breaking away, lifting her hips to position herself, “have had enough of you not being inside me.”

Fuck, Blair,” he groans.

“You’re telling me, sweetheart.” And then she’s there, all around him, taking all of him in at once, impatiently fast. It’s too good, too much. He starts to shake from holding himself back.

“Don’t you dare,” Blair orders, grave despite the tremor in her voice, fingernails digging a warning into his chest.

He sighs, staring up at her, the way she holds herself above him, beautiful and without mercy. He inhales shakily, then exhales just as unevenly, but it brings him down from the edge.

“Yes,” Blair moans her approval, starting to roll her hips ever so slowly, “you’re being so good, kitten.”

A pleasant, agonizing chill runs down his spine, but Dan still holds out, setting his hands on Blair’s hips as she rides him. He’s started to find his balance at the edge, letting himself sink into the sensations he’s feeling—Blair hot and tight around him, the firm plush of their bed beneath him, the softness of her skin under his fingertips, her hair tickling his face and chest when she bends over him—without them overcoming him.

Blair sets a slow pace, patient for seemingly the first time tonight, like she is luxuriating in the slowness. She’ll quicken her pace, enough to make Dan feel his heart thumping hard in his chest, only to make herself back down again, retreating to that agonizing slow rhythm, making herself wait because it means making Dan wait.

After the millionth, or maybe just the third time, she does this, Dan arches beneath her with a plaintive, “Blair.”

She leans over him, scratching lightly at his chest, “What is it, kitten?”

“Blair,” he breathes out her name again, “Blair, love, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need -” he pants, “I need you to come. Please, love. Please come for me.”

She lets out a whimper, then grasps at his hand, bringing it to where they’re connected. He follows her wordless instruction, thumb finding her clit, circling and circling.

Blair’s head falls back, hips rocking faster now, until she clenches around him, mouth falling open as she cries out, loud and unabashed.

And that’s the fourth.

She collapses onto him, her body shaking in aftershocks, boneless and trembling for a long time after. Dan rubs her back, realizing that this had to be intense for her, too.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “you okay? Do you need to stop?”

She shakes her head, face mashed into his chest. “Just - just hold me?”

He presses his lips to the top of her head, arms tightening around her, smoothing a hand up and down her back. “You got it,” he murmurs.

Dan tries to stay focused on her, feeling her breathing even out, her body relaxing on top of his, and tries not to focus on how hard he is, how desperate she’s made him.

After a time, Blair shifts her weight, accidentally brushing up against him, and Dan makes a helpless, winded noise.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, playful and full of pity, clearly recovered, “still so needy.”

She rolls off him, but sends a hand down to touch him, light, teasing, tormenting strokes. He whimpers again, head rolling to face her lying next to him.

“Show me,” she orders, low-voiced and gentle. “Take me. Show me how desperate you are, beautiful.”

He’s not sure who reaches for whom first, but he’s suddenly on top of her, her legs wrapping around his waist, and then he moves inside her in one swift motion, need making his movements too clumsy, too fast, too rough.

But Blair only moans. “Again.”

And so he does, another harsh thrust that makes her cry out. “Just like that, love,” she urges.

Dan keeps moving at her pleas, drilling into her, losing himself in the feeling, in her sounds. It doesn’t take her long this time, until she’s clenching around him, face pinched in a soundless cry, marring his back with her nails.

And that’s the fifth.

He still tries to wait, for her permission, for her to come down from orgasm, but she pulls him closer, tugging on his hair to whisper in his ear. “Don’t stop, sweetheart,” she orders breathlessly, “Don’t stop fucking me until you come.”

He moans, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and obeys, taking her until he shakes apart, cries spilling out of his mouth, pulse thundering in his ears, stars bursting behind his eyelids, and there’s Blair, of course, surrounding him, holding him, anchoring him to earth even when she sends every part of him flying.

They lay together in the after, close together, but sprawled out over their bed, where they collapsed into place, the both of them completely spent.

“I don’t think,” Dan mumbles drowsily, “I don’t think we could have made it to ten.”

Blair giggles, bright and uninhibited through her exhaustion, turning to curl up around him, throwing an arm over his waist. Anchoring. “At least we have something to work towards.”

He laughs weakly, lips finding her temple. “God I love you.”