Because I am apparently incapable of 'shipping canon, and Gossip Girl is a total guilty pleasure, a wee bit of Dan/Blair.

Title: "Purity Pledge"
Author: angel_grace
Rating: R, for language and sexual situations
Pairing: Blair/Dan
Word Count: 845
Spoilers: General through 1.4, "Bad News Blair."
Disclaimer: Very much not mine. I just enjoy playing with the pretty people.
Summary: Blair decides that waiting is overrated, and revenge is best served naked.

For as long as she'd been imagining having sex, Blair had imagined her first time with Nate. Oh, sure, there was an occasional fantasy about Prince Harry, but really, the only one that mattered was Nate. It was supposed to be the fairy tale, the happily ever after, the first time, last time, every time.

It was, she realizes now, incredibly stupid and naive. Prince Charming isn't supposed to sleep with Cinderella's best friend.

Not that Cinderella has friends.

She hangs on to Nate even after his betrayal, because he's always been hers, and she's never been one to give away her toys. They still don't have sex, though, and she hasn't decided if it's his residual guilt about Serena or the fact that he'd probably rather play sub to Chuck's dom.

She starts to tell herself that it doesn't matter, that sex is just a commodity, to be bartered, sold, blackmailed, controlled. It was ridiculous to wait as long as she did, to fixate on an antiquated ideal that was practically obsolete before her mother hit puberty. It becomes a game of Survivor in her head--Outflirt. Outkiss. Outfuck. Who will be the last man on the island? She knows it's up to her to choose.

He wasn't even a contender when this all began. Hell, she's still not entirely sure of his last name. A month ago he was just another nobody, a scholarship kid who thought that hard work and a positively Midwestern earnestness were enough to succeed in life. All it took was a few minutes standing inside the charmed aura of Serena van der Woodsen for him to matter.

Examined objectively, he's reasonably attractive. His smile isn't quite straight, and his hair is a little too short, but she'd stared at Nate's perfection for years, and look where that had gotten her. He possessed the most important qualification of all--Serena wanted him.

In the end, the seduction isn't even hard. A careful allowance of snide remarks, slowly transitioning into more genuine repartee. She allows him to believe that she's just being a good friend to Serena, that of course she would be kind to the guy her best friend likes. She makes sure to pay attention to him when Serena is too busy being Serena, calculates exactly how much time should pass before she casually invites him to something Serena can't attend. It's easy to play the gracious host, to introduce him to the right people, because everyone Blair knows are the right people.

She learns what he likes, and reads just enough on Wikipedia to pretend that she cares. He likes to talk, likes to talk even more about himself, and she didn't grow up in her mother's house without learning to feign interest. After that, it's simply a matter of waiting for a night when Serena cancels on him.

It doesn't take long.

Her skirt is just a little shorter that night, her blouse a little tighter, her perfume a little stronger. She's almost disappointed by how easy it is. A few bottles of wine at the club, a carefully executed stumble as they get into the limo, and their bodies are flush together, her lips finding his in an impressive approximation of an accident.

He kisses her back without hesitation, and she almost wants to slap him for Serena's sake, but then she remembers Nate and her tongue is in his mouth. He is, she determines, a good kisser, even if his technique is a little sloppy. With practice, she could probably even enjoy this.

He follows her lead without argument, eagerly helping her unbutton her shirt and bending his head to her breasts. She guides his hands beneath her skirt, feels his reaction when he realizes she's pulling a Britney.

She straddles him on the seat, her skirt bunching up around her waist, her hands making quick work of the zipper on his slacks. He groans when she wraps her hand around him, and it's the perfect time to whisper that there are condoms in her purse, and that she's been on the Pill since she was thirteen. All the better if he believes this isn't her first time.

He lays her back against the seat and manages to shuck his pants and boxers within the confines of the limo. It helps that it's a stretch. As he rolls on the condom, she wonders if it will hurt, the way it has in every shitty romance novel she's ever read.

She wonders if he'll be able to tell.

If he can, he doesn't mention it, and while it's not the most comfortable thing in the world, it gets better near the end. He doesn't make her come, but she's seen When Harry Met Sally enough times to fool him.

When it's over, he goes ashen, and whispers that he loves Serena. They both do, she quickly assures him, and it's the only thing about the night that's true.

Oh yes, they both love Serena. And they both hate her just enough to do this again.