Summary: It was instinctive. It was animalistic. He knew what he was doing by pure primal feeling. But if he let himself go, then everything would be lost. She was dangerous. She didn't know the power she held over him.

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Loving her was easy. It wasn't even that saying it was hard. It was the fact that she was too good for him. People didn't understand why he did the things he did. She understood. He thought he was alone in the world and he would do something so cruel and so manipulative and she would just look at them. She wasn't judging. She just put a hand on his arm and walked away.

Falling for her was easy. Believing in himself was harder. He saw the things that no one else saw. He saw the tears, the vomit, the blood. Nate didn't see her tearing herself apart in insecurity. Serena didn't see her frailty at her jealousy. He saw the power she had. She could be anything. She was better than him but she didn't see it.

And when everything fell apart, he was the one who had to make it better. He hated it. He hated it because it churned his stomach. It made his heart fracture as the pieces shattered in his chest painfully. He didn't know why his heart made him sick and he didn't like it. He didn't like to see her sprawled across his floor helpless.

"Waldorf. Stop."

He knew she couldn't hear. The way her eyes didn't see what was in front of her. The way she didn't see him. She never really could.

Maybe if he didn't walk in this wouldn't have happened. Maybe after that bad scene at the club he wouldn't be staring at her eagle spread way too close to his bed. He didn't think of her this way. She was Nathaniel's and that was that. Off limits. Prohibited. Out of bounds. Besides, there were plenty of other girls he could screw (and screw over) on the Upper East Side. Not to mention the countless numbers of older desperate hot women at the Manhattan bars.

But there she was. Little Miss Perfect with her long pitch hair sprawled across his carpet, her stockings showing too much thigh, and her dress riding much too high. He cursed himself the moment he entered that club.

Stupid Nathaniel. If he even gave her the time of day like she deserved, he was sure this wouldn't have happened. Serena's absence hadn't helped any either. She was completely alone and the only one around to save her was him.

How ironic.

Even more ironic, he was the only one who actually wanted to.

If it weren't for her stupid problems in her stupid life and her stupid father stepping out of the closet all the way to France, he wouldn't have had to take care of her. And he didn't care that he didn't mind. He didn't care that he liked that she was at his mercy. It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair watching that urban hipster slipping that acid tablet in her drink. Chuck had never phsyically accosted someone and he wasn't about to start now. He knew Blair would just end up being angry and bitchy at him later.

Chuck didn't do upper body strength either. He wasn't Nathaniel for more than obvious reasons. He didn't play lacrosse, wasn't loved by his father, and definitely wasn't loved by Blair Waldorf.

Even if he couldn't help but think what the latter might be like. Now.

It didn't used to be like this.

But spontaneously, he had suddenly swept her feet from under her in attempts to save her from herself. And everyone else who would have taken advantage of the 16 year old beauty who he himself was fighting the urge to take advantage of.

She was so easy. She wouldn't protest. He just wished she could. He didn't know why, he just did.

But he did.

He knew why suddenly she was getting to him. If it weren't for damn Nathaniel, damn Serena, and her damn father, he wouldn't have gotten to know her. He wouldn't have seen her cry, seen her real laugh and really see the unabashed emotion behind the shield of her eyes.

But he did.

The only thing missing was the way she looked at him back. She had already inflated his black and shriveled heart, something that no one in the past had ever succeeded at. If it wasn't for this, he wouldn't be fighting the devil in his heart. The real devil that everyone thought they saw. Really, he had a reason for doing the things he did. But this was an evil on a whole completely different level.

She didn't belong to him. Never had, never would. But his evil was shining through. He knew why it was wrong, but he couldn't feel it in himself to actually feel remorse. He should feel guilty for the things he was even considering, but he just didn't. She was too tempting, to alluring. She was too damn... his.

Even when she wasn't. He should feel bad that he wanted to violate and corrupt his best friend's girlfriend, but he just didn't. That was the problem.

Her chest was heaving. His eyes couldn't leave her form. He was transfixed in fascination. It shouldn't be like this, but he had never seen her so... free. He had seen her straitlaced and proper. He thought that there was maybe something underneath, but he couldn't fathom she would be a whole different person.

She shifted on his floor, her arms above her head, twirling to music he couldn't hear. He couldn't see the different colors blooming in front of her eyes or the new dimensions she was experiencing. He was just glad she was obviously not on a bad trip. He wouldn't know how to handle that. He wouldn't know how to ground her.

He knew he was close. He was so close to losing control. He could lean down and in a swift motion, just lose himself in her. Like he realized was inevitable. She was just too damn tempting that he knew one day, he would just forget. He would forget that he had a best friend. He would forget that she had a boyfriend. And he would forget that she was too good for him. That she wasn't his to take.

She didn't seem to care at the moment. He knew he would get blamed for taking her virginity in the impaired state she was, so he just stared. It was all he could do.

He knew he was trying to win a losing battle and he knew the moment it hit him. He knew the moment he wouldn't care about allegiances some day.

Her breathing started to become hollow and ragged at the same time. She was tossing lightly at his feet and he knew he couldn't help her ride this out like he so desperately craved to do. He didn't see the fragmented colors the whirled around her. But he saw something that was just as entrancing.

He saw her gently sloping hips raise of the floor and he knew she was seeing something as transcendent as he wanted to feel with her. Her breaths became sharp and he wondered what it would be like if he was on top of her. He wondered what it would feel like; flesh on flesh; soul on soul.

Her nails grazed her porcelain thighs and her skirt began to ride up again. A good man would have looked away. A benevolent man would have averted his eyes. Chuck was neither of these things. He was evil in the purest of forms and he dared not look away, fearing what would happen to him if he did.

He couldn't understand why her body was undulating like that when no one was touching her. He wanted to know her. He wanted to experience her. He wanted a taste.

Her hands gripped her clothing feverishly and he suddenly knew she had to stop. He knelt by her side, not sure of what to do. Her head was turned to the side and he wanted to bury his hands in her thick locks. She opened her eyes and as she gazed endlessly, he wondered what she saw. He watched the perspiration glide down her collarbone. He wanted to follow its trail where it dipped... And suddenly he could.

He tried to stop her from unbuttoning what was covering her against his better judgment. He wanted to stop her content sighs just so he wouldn't go insane from listening to them. Her back arched against the carpet and he finally put his hands on her.

"You're going to come out of this," he promised, not sure why he said it or if she could even hear him. Her head fell to the side and he suddenly knew she was looking straight through him. He took a sharp intake of breath as she reached out her hand and touched his face. He couldn't find it in himself to turn away.

"Chuck," she breathed.

He decided there wasn't a sound in the world that was more beautiful or intoxicating as that. She rain her fingers across the sharp planes of his face as her eyes fluttered.


He didn't know what she wanted. "I'm here."

"No one sees you," she whispered. "Do they?"

He didn't know if he had an answer. He didn't know if she wanted one.

"No one sees the pure and dangerous perfection in you."

He couldn't breathe. She had literally stolen his breath away.

"You're so beautiful," she murmured. "And no one sees it but me."

He was glad what happened next. That way, he couldn't be blamed. He didn't know which one of them it was. It was probably him. But it could have been her.

She was arching off the floor again and he watched the blouse of her shirt fall across her alabaster abdomen as he found his hand braced by her head, unable to stop. It was instinctive. It was animalistic. He knew what he was doing by pure primal feeling. But if he let himself go, then everything would be lost. She was dangerous. She didn't know the power she held over him. She didn't know the power she could exert if she even tried. He didn't want to tell her.

Her hand had curled around the back of his neck and he could take her so easily. He could spiral into oblivion with her by his side the entire way.


If he pretended, he could think that was almost a moan. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend she was giving herself to him. And that was the most seductive thing she could ever do to him.

His eyes snapped open.

His heart hammered against his breast bone so hard, he was sure it would break. Her hand was at his waistband and venturing lower. Too low. His breath vanished from his lungs out of its own accord, like he had taken a hit to the stomach, shifting her curls slightly.

"Blair," he almost begged. "Don't do this."

There was one chance he could push her away. There was one chance that he wouldn't do this. But in a split second that would be gone and he would have no misconceptions about taking the beauty that no one else saw.

"Chuck," she purred into his ear, his eyes fluttering closed, "I want you."

It was the three words that would get him every time. It was the three words that would make him pin her against his floor and enjoy her virginity so tight around him.

"Blair," he growled in her ear.

This was wrong. So wrong.

But then why did it feel so right?

"I need you," she purred again, her hand venturing to his zipper.

And he woke up in a cold sweat.

He was breathing like he did after exerting himself after certain activities, his blankets tangled around his ankles. Seconds ago, he could feel her warmth enclosing his thighs. He could still feel it, but it was slowly fading.

Then he saw her. Completely oblivious, she was slumbering peacefully after the night of partying and her first trip. He could have taken her. Last night, it would have been so easy. But the morning hours came and her virginity was still intact. He didn't know what sort of Herculean restraint he had but she was just sleeping innocently. In his bed. The pleasure she would have invoked in him would have lasted, but the hatred Nate would have held for him would have last longer.

Nate didn't deserve her. It wasn't like Chuck did either, but at least he appreciated the goddess that deigned to grace him with her presence. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was Chuck Bass. He didn't feel. He didn't love. He didn't want things that destroyed loyalties.

He was a weak man. He thought he was Chuck Bass but he was only Chuck Bass in her presence. He wouldn't show. He would urge Nathaniel to take her for his own because that was obviously the only way to rid himself of this malady. He would let her smile at him and plot with him. He would think about what it would be like if she ever left Nathaniel. And he certainly would make it known how radiant and ravishing she was to him. But no more. He would not betray his best friend. He would not seduce her.

He looked over where she slept after he carried her there to sleep off the effects of the night. There would be a time where she would have enough. She wouldn't be treated this way forever. She was Blair Waldorf and she would eventually realize that she was better. She was better than this. She was better than everyone.

He wouldn't ignore her. He wouldn't discourage the fantasies. The memory so ingrained in his brain made him relive it in his sleep. This was the first dream but it wasn't the last. She would always be there. She was there in his subconscious and forever in his mind. She had seared her way through his life like acid. She had ruined him and burned him for good.

A/N: So this a pre-series one-shot that I did. It may seem really weird (because it sort of it) but I kind of like it. I hope its not too confusing or anything. I'm not sure if this is going to be well received or what, so just give it a try. I just have to saw I don't really know what a real acid trip is like. All I know is what I've read in books and seen in movies. So forgive me for any mistakes (no beta.)