A/N: So this is short because I just wrote after watching Inglorious Bassterds and watching the promo which strangely, gave me hope because I was sure they would just drop Chair and go to Serenate (And Carterena-- did you head his voice?? ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!) Don't hate me for my views.
Summary: If I'm going to hell, at least I'll see him there. Because if there was one thing she couldn't take, it was being away from him forever. Because even through her tears and self loathing, he was always there. And that was what she needed.
Dislcaimer: For the record, I don't hate Chuck like a lot of people do, because I could never hate him. This is my interpretation (and actually, what I thought the natural order of things would go after the break up even before I saw it.) In my eyes, Chuck has already redeemed himself because he (and Blair) are the only reasons that I started watching this anyway so I need to have faith. And I just love him too much (much like Blair does, even now, I am sure.) Oh right, and nothing belongs to me but the words in this doc.
She refused to fall asleep in the same bed as him anymore.
It wasn't a matter of principle. It wasn't that she hated him (because she never could) and it wasn't because he was an ex (because they weren't labeling anything.) She couldn't fall asleep in the same bed as her ex boyfriend anymore after they had another night of tumultuous and searing sex because she knew as soon as she woke up, she would have forgiven him.
She wasn't ready. She couldn't forgive him yet. It was the most heartbreaking thing because she knew in the inevitable future, it would happen. They would get past it because it was what they did.
She tried to convince herself that this was it. This was irreparable. But it was nothing.
Nothing compared to what it could be. Nothing compared to her stomach acids burning away her throat or his liver decaying away. Because they could truly be without each other and then it would truly be the end.
And it happened.
She didn't know how, she didn't know when. All she knew was that she still loved him. And it happened. Like it used to happen.
His tantalizing face would assault her senses and she forgot. She forgot that this was a game and that he wasn't really cheating on her with some model. It was a simple syllable and she would press her mouth heatedly to his.
In one syllable, she knew that he had her beat. Because she could never hate him. She loved him too damn much. And even more than that, she needed him. She needed him like she had never needed anyone before in her life to a point where it hurt.
And looking into his eyes for one second, she knew it was the same for him.
Because he wasn't leaving her alone. He didn't have to overtly assault her body like he used to during black outs or sneer at fake British boyfriends.
It was all in those dark exotic eyes that she told herself that she wasn't attracted to anymore.
That's what it came down to. She didn't forgive him. She couldn't. But her body still craved hers just like when she came back from Europe with a fake boyfriend and that wasn't something that she could change.
So she didn't.
She let his fingers ghost across her skin with promises of jewelry and a better tomorrow, but never once did she promise him anything in return. Because if she did that, the whole vicious cycle would begin again.
His dark eyes met hers in the mirror and she found that she couldn't move. He had her paralyzed as he advanced her with a predatory walk that had somehow gained some semblance of innocence.
That was the first time she let him touch her again.
But that's all she let happen. Before she could fall victim to his persuasive and dark touch, she pulled away.
And he let her. Because like she knew she was falling into a trap, he knew that this wasn't the end.
He couldn't stay away from her and she couldn't stay away from him and it was only a matter of time before it came to a head. She felt Serena's cold eyes on her but the heat of his was more.
His dark voice greeted her in the background where no one would see. Because she couldn't let anyone see. She was still far too fragile for that. She could feel from his stance that he was expecting it to go like it always did.
He would whisper one syllable to her and her eyes would flutter at his begging touch. But that was it.
That was it until she couldn't ignore him anymore.
So she whirled around, trapping his face between her hands and once again, gaining entrance to his hot mouth.
He tried whispering her name huskily in a drawl that always won her over but she silenced him with another angry kiss.
And it was one thought in her head that kept her pressing her body again his.
If I'm going to hell, at least I'll see him there.
Because if there was one thing she couldn't take, it was being away from him forever. Because even through her tears and self loathing, he was always there. And that was what she needed. She needed him more than he could ever know. And that was why she was tearing at his clothes.
She resisted his bed.
It needed to be hot and quick so she could go on with her life. So she would pull him into coat check and into restrooms at high class restaurants even if the one place she refused to go was The Empire.
But he knew her. And every time, the tryst grew longer and louder until she couldn't take it anymore. She was digging herself a hole and he was gladly jumping in after her. Because he couldn't take being without her either.
They had come full circle. Like she was sixteen going on seventeen all over again, she was sleeping with the smug devil that she was never meant to and no one but their best friends knew about it. And it was her that was keeping them apart again.
She resisted his bed.
But the thing about resistance was that he was superb at breaking it.
She would let his familiar and dirty and comforting hands explore her and give her the pleasure that she missed but she wouldn't go to his bed.
Until it was too late.
She felt a vicious feeling of deja vu before she realized, undulating underneath his, she was in fact, ensnared in his bed again. And for a moment, she just didn't care. She didn't care that her passion for him was never waning and would never cease. She didn't care that tears pricked her vision of the simple bliss that she had rejected. She didn't care that she could admit she was still and forever would be in love with him.
But she snapped back to reality at his groan. His lusty groan filled her ear to her satisfied purr and she didn't know how to rectify it.
He was always reluctant to pull away from her.
Even as their climaxes peaked, he wouldn't pull away. He always had to be over her so he could stop her from leaving right away. It was a sense of control he needed because maybe one day, she would leave and never come back.
So his body softened and she had to order herself not to caress his heated skin like she used to.
Because this was just sex. And when he finally pulled away, she realized her one fatal mistake. She kept violating her own laws. At first there was no sex. And then there were no rooms. And then there were no beds. There were only supposed to be quick and heat filled.
But her eyelids began to droop as exhaustion overcame her and she had to wonder if this was his plot all along. She was sure she had doubted his love for her. How else could he have done to her what he did?
But she knew him. And she knew that only his love for her would have made him hang on this long. Only his love for her would have led him down this labyrinth of her moods. Because he finally had her in his bed again and it was only a matter of time before he could possess her soul as well.
So she jerked upright, holding his bedsheet to her chest, realizing she let him strip her of everything that she didn't want. Her inhibitions, her values, and finally all her clothes, the way he never did with anyone else.
And his fingers ghosted across her skin (again) and she gave up (again.)
But only for a moment.
"You can stay the night," he suggested, his throat thick with lust(love), "if you're tired."
She knew that wasn't at all his intention. She knew his intentions consisted of having her wholly again and not stay just because she was tired.
"I have to leave."
It was a necessity. Before it was just her simple "I'm leaving" and he would nod as they righted their clothing and walked back into the gala.
But she had to leave this time because she knew if she stayed, she would stray from this promise to herself as well.
She felt the bed shift. She looked over her shoulder (god, he always had to win) to see him laying on his back, though still stroking her naked spine with his fingers. She wanted to slap him away. She would use to do that. She used to have some sort of self control.
He stared at the ceiling, almost angry at it for not crumbling at the tragedy that had become them and she felt her heart crack just a little more. She was surprised that the shards weren't sticking out of her chest.
She had pulled on her clothing when she had finally heard him speak again.
"You need this," he murmured into the dark, "just as much as I do."
She couldn't answer. Because he already knew the answer. The answer would come again in another public place where they wouldn't be able to keep their hands off each other once again. Like it had always been.
And maybe this time, she would fall asleep.
But that wasn't tonight. And that wasn't this time.
She refused to fall asleep in the same bed as him.
But the one solace she had was at least she would spend eternity with him, her soul mate, even if it was in hell.
I love you.