It was just another Thursday night at the hotel, but there was a party in the ballroom—yet another Serena van der Woodsen triumph—which nowadays Blair found wearying. She had tempted Chuck back to their suite, but when Nate followed, she had grabbed a glass of champagne for herself, and trusted Chuck to take care of the rest.

Back in their suite, she leaned against Chuck as he sipped brandy, and they watched Nate snicker on the floor, the remnants of a joint smoldering in an ashtray. She felt a flash of youth again, that weird high school joy of knowing she was finally in a safe place, but this was in reverse, because Chuck's arm wrapped around her waist, and Nate was smirking, his cheek brushing against the sofa, next to her knee.

There was a clink of glass as Chuck set his brandy down, and she slouched further, feeling delicious and warm. He and Nate were talking about the last, lost weekend, and she raised one of her feet, her shoe slipping off her heel, dangling from her toe. She thought about princes and the discomfort of glass shoes, and without looking at her, Nate eased the shoe off, pressed his thumbs artfully into the arch of foot. She shifted against Chuck, and he chuckled, his lips brushing behind her ear.

She turned her head, kissed him briefly. He touched his tongue to hers, and then Nate's hands trailed up her calf, over her knee, came to rest at her thigh, where her garter belt pulled at the lace of her stocking. The pads of his fingers touched her lightly, and she broke Chuck's kiss expecting to find outrage. Instead there was curiosity, and something else.

She looked at Nate, and the expression was the same, with an added fillip of apprehension. His fingernails caught at the lace of her stocking, and she couldn't help but shiver, and she thought Chuck reacted in kind.

She tilted her head, Chuck's throat warm against her forehead. "You boys have done this before, haven't you?" she observed.

Chuck touched her jaw, raised her gaze to his. "Not like this," he murmured, and when he kissed her again, she pressed a hand against Nate's, briefly, and he made short work of the garter belt, of the stockings, of her other shoe, still settled on her right foot.

She stopped to breathe, and Chuck resettled her, pulling her so that her back pressed against his chest. One of his hands slipped under the strap of her dress, his fingers playing the length of her collarbone. Nate pushed the hem of her dress up, and she hooked one of her knees over Chuck's, smiling fondly at Nate's intent before he pressed his mouth against the silk of her panties, and she gasped as he breathed wet and hot against her. She moaned as he tugged her panties down her legs, robbing her of his heat, and Chuck's hand delved lower, cupped her breast, the other firm against her waist, and when Nate licked against her, into her, a scream strangled in her throat.

She clutched at Chuck, at his hand, his arm, his neck, faintly embarrassed at the sounds she was making, but not embarrassed enough to stop. He kissed her arm and the back of her neck, whispering amazement against her skin.

She had, in the intervening years, forgotten how good Nate had been at this. In the library between classes, or the women's room of Butter, or the attic of his house in the Hamptons, sun filtering through a dusty window as she writhed against antique furniture, staring down at her tousled boyfriend and wondering how she could be so lucky.

Blair tangled her fingers in Nate's hair, and Chuck pinched her nipple, bit her earlobe, and when Nate slid two fingers inside her, she curved like a bow, and Chuck said, "I love you."

She shuddered as Nate withdrew, and Chuck wrapped his arms around her, warming her as she recovered. Nate settled on the sofa next to her. He extended his hand, and Blair watched as Chuck circled Nate's wrist, bent his head, sucked on the fingers that had recently been inside her. She wriggled off Chuck's lap until she was better between them, and when they finally kissed, eyes shut, mouths smiling, she wasn't at all surprised. Chuck's cock pressed against her hip, while Nate was hard along her thigh, and she thought this was much better than those soft-core movies she and Serena still mocked during impromptu sleepovers.

And even as he kissed Nate, Chuck held her hand, his thumb drawing slow circles against her palm. Blair raised his hand to her lips and kissed each knuckle in turn, and after a beat, she did the same for Nate. She thought, as Nate broke the kiss, grinned at her, that there were two people in the world who would never tell her nay, and she loved them both, and she relaxed, and Chuck swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

He laid her on the mattress like a sacrifice, and Nate eased the dress over her shoulders, deftly undid her bra, and she struck him softly on the shoulder when he smirked. He turned his head, watched Chuck divest himself of his suit, and Blair kneeled on the bed, unbuttoned Nate's shirt, since he was so distracted.

Naked, Chuck settled on the bed, and Blair laid alongside him, reveling in the heat of his skin. Together, they watched Nate shed his trousers before kneeling on the bed, between the V of Chuck's legs, and Blair slipped a hand between her own. She hissed when Nate's tongue darted against Chuck's cock, and when Nate looked at her, questioning, she shrugged.

"I didn't realize you were such an expert on threesomes," she observed, words tart because she knew no other way.

Nate looked at Chuck, then he prowled up the bed, his body covering Chuck's, but his mouth pressing against hers. "A threesome," he said finally, "is when two people have sex with somebody they don't care about."

Chuck kissed her shoulder, distracting her. "And what's this?" Blair managed to ask.

"Not that," Nate answered, and when he kissed her again, she thought she knew what he meant.