A/N: I'm not sure if this is going to be a one shot or not. If i make it into a multi fic, it will just be a collection of one shots at different moments in this point of view. This is after the 1st season Thanksgiving. Give it a shot.

Summary: That's why you work. You don't want it to, but it works perfectly. And that's what's really confusing. You tell him this. He just devours you as usual.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. All is Gossip Girl.

You know this has to end. Not the trysts itself, but the ignoring him thing. Sure, your best friend is under the impression that its just for revenge, but what she doesn't know won't harm her, now, will it?

You could just blow him off again. But you've already done that and third time's the charm. He bores easily, so he would tire of you playing hard to get. And its not really hard to get, is it? Not when you are so enamored, attracted, and gravitationally pulled towards him that its really only a matter of time before you meet oh so intimately again. Inevitable. That's his favorite word. You know this not because he's said it, but he will say it. When you meet sweetly again.

Serena asks where he was that Thanksgiving. You don't give a straight answer. Not because you're embarrassed by the things that you let him do to you, but because you really don't know. And you're a need to know person and not knowing just isn't your forte. Or his. You don't want to believe that he's with his own best friend because that would annoy you. Its not the guilt that annoys you but the lack of guilt. You feel as though you should feel sorry that you've moved on so quickly, but you really and truly don't. Its because he knows you. He looks deep into your eyes with his slanting and exotic ones and its as though he can read your mind. And he proves this by doing everything you want to you and more.

And its not only that you actually don't know, but you sort of don't want to find out. You don't want to acknowledge that he could be letting some other skank be pleasuring him and you would never admit to yourself how that would hurt. Because you can't have feelings for him and you're definitely not jealous. Even when you are.

You're not one for caving in, however. Its not like you're going to walk up to him and be like "I need you, ravage me now." Because that's exactly the sort of thing that he would want. You know this because he's husked it gutturally into your hear so many times as you let him caress you with his gravelly velvet words.

Since you're already lying to your best friend, you might as well lie to everyone else. You've already fallen for the one person you don't fall for. Its even inscribed on the sign under Constance's slogan. Do not dare fall for Chuck Bass or misfortune will befall you. You especially know this because he's your best friend.

Seriously. Serena is nice and all, but Serena also abandoned you for some boarding school in Connecticut. He was the one who was there. He comforted you when your father was gone, when Serena was gone, even when dear Nathaniel was gone. You were drowning your sorrows in Chuck's mini-bar. Chuck didn't have a best friend anymore either. So you had the misfortune of connecting with someone who doesn't even have a soul. Good job. You accomplished the impossible while simultaneously making your life extremely difficult.

He's your secret best friend while Serena is your public best friend. It sort of matches the trysts that you can't seem to forget while you are purging your feelings and... oh, yeah. That entire apple pie you consumed as well. Superb.

You call the doctor the next day. He doesn't need to find out but he does. Its not like he has proof that you're doing that habitual thing where you rid the food from your body, but he just knows. He reads your face as well as he can the labels on La Perla.

While you're sitting on that bathroom floor before calling Serena who will summon you to the Humphrey's for one really awkward day, you really and truly consider calling him. Or at the very least texting him. He would know how to take care of this. He's always taken care of you. You'd never admit it to anyone, let alone yourself, but its always been him.

So even though you don't tell him, he already knows. He doesn't care. That's the thing about your relationship. You just accept the other for whatever messed up versions of themselves they are going to be that day. That's why you work. You don't want it to, but it works perfectly. And that's what's really confusing. You tell him this. He just devours you as usual.

I don't know why I'm here.

You simply cannot resist me, he replies snarkily. You want to slap that look right off him but he decide its too delicious to. He's too devilishly good looking for his own good.

But I hate you you say curiously.

Hate just disguises the incredible sexual tension radiating off of us, he replies like he's had that answer for years. He probably has. You lay back on the couch at Victrola. You honestly don't even remember how you got here. But you know how you'll be leaving.

Maybe I'm just testing Fate, trying to stay away from you, you try to reason.

Whatever you need to tell yourself, he replies coolly. You don't remember how you ended up on the couch in his suite. That might have something to do with how you let him do that thing he does to your neck in the back of the limo. You let him. Its all over now.

You leave anyway. You can tell he isn't pleased. But you need to keep him guessing.

Isn't this story a little tired?

He's in your room now. You didn't invite him. And he guessed what you feared he would. You're done playing hard to get and now he just wants to play hard. And he's done playing.

He smells strongly of scotch and you hate yourself for how it makes you want him more. He has actually taken control of you now and that just won't do.

I gave you your space, he says dryly. So that's what Thanksgiving was about. Now I'm tired. I haven't had a woman in weeks and I want you now.

Why not? you ask curiously. He glares. You like it when he's angry. That can't be healthy.

Maybe I'm obsessed with you he shrugs nonchalantly. Maybe all I can think of is you. Maybe none of them remind me of you so I can't take them down. Or maybe they bore me. Maybe you're actually the only one who entices me anymore. Pick one.

They're all true? you ask timidly. You're not about to tell him that's the most romantic thing you've ever heard. Yes, you're definitely messed up.

Well if that's not the most romantic thing that you've ever heard, then slam the door in my face right now.

Damn. He knows you too well.

What if I want to do it anyway?

Was that an answer? He smirks.

I think we've both excelled at evasive answers.

He agrees with you.

Are you going to make me keep tailing you in my limo, or are you going to give in to what we both know is already going to happen?

You decide.

You want him to stay.

Serena knows, he muses.

He always knows.

She saw us.

I know. She threatened me.

And yet you come here.

Yes, he smirks wickedly, advancing you on the precarious position you have on your bed.

After drinking 18 bottles of scotch.

17 and a half, he corrects coolly. He definitely gets you. Are you done making up excuses yet?

How did you know I was?

I know.

Wasn't that the truth.

You just want to brag that you bagged the Queen Virgin.

I already have, he pointed out. Twice. And I haven't told anyone. Do you want to know why?

I could wager a guess.

How about: I want you. I need you. I will do anything to have you.

And what about after that? you ask timidly. After you want/need/have me? I won't end up like all the others.

Is that what's been stopping you?

Maybe, you breathe, wanting to know his reaction.

His reaction is simple. He's on top of you in seconds flat with God knows who else is on the other side of the penthouse walls. He doesn't care. You're finding out that neither do you.

Well I'm done waiting, he says. And you should know by now I don't do with you what I do with those conquests.

I won't be used, you warn him.

You're extremely beautiful. You know that?

Damn. He knows your weakness. And that's the night you discover his.

The nape of the neck.

That's when you decide that he's yours and no one else's. He just doesn't know that yet. You let him take you with his arousing and seductive groans in your ears. He knows that no one talks to you like he does. Calls you beautiful and makes you feel wanted and desired. He uses it against you. He makes you feel like you're everything. That's good enough.

He's right. He's impatient. You like that about him. He's not a push over. You'd think that wouldn't work for you. You're just as much as a control freak as he is and its always a fight for power. But you like this game and will forever like this game. He's strong. He's powerful. He's seductive. He makes you burn out your skin. He's everything you'd thought you'd hate. But you don't. You love it. You don't think you love him, though. At least, you won't let yourself think it. At least not for now. Instead, you let him do what he wants.

I'm going to dominate you.

And you let him.

At least for now.