A/N: Back by popular demand. And by demand, I mean demand. This is a companion piece but I won't tell you to which one. It might seem generic but another piece to this story was demanded, and I had to deliver. It was pointed out to me that the end of the original o/s was too good to have a second part, but this was mandated. So its a companion piece and if you want to pretend that its not a part of the original, I will not begrudge you that.
Summary: This always happened. And she was falling even deeper than she ever had before. And this time, it wasn't even him. It wasn't him that was lecherous and immoral. It was her. It was her who had crossed a line. And he was just being himself. Finally, himself.
Disclaimer: Characters and future S4 rediculousness do not belong to me. Thanks to comewhatmay.x's tentative beta. Because I liked the first chapter as well, but this just had to be done. Dedicated to the adament Very Last Valkyrie. This would not have been written without you. I hope its up to your standards.
She had been sitting up rigidly against his headboard for the better part of an hour. She stared determinedly to the other side of the room, not sure if she was trying to convince herself that she wasn't where she was or that she hadn't finished doing something hours ago that was proven by the sticky residue between her thighs.
She clutched the covers to her bare chest, very aware that this was not her bed and she was not alone. Then again, she had been aware of that since the moment she stepped into the one place that she had prohibited herself from entering since Nathaniel's whores tramped through it playing Rockband.
Nevertheless, she was still there, contemplating what was happening to her and why she hadn't moved. She wondered why she had even come in the first place. A deep throated, masculine murmur coated with sleep initially jerked her from her reverie and she clenched her eyes shut, hoping to God that this hadn't just happened. But there was no denying it.
Blair Waldorf was in Chuck Bass's bed.
But that was a given.
His arm was thrown around her naked hips and she tried to shut out how he had drawled in her ear that night and now she would have to have a scalding shower just to rid his natural musk from her body. A scent that try as she might, in the past four years, not once had she been able to scrub it away completely.
Looking at him was the absolute worst thing that she could do because she was suddenly marveling at how precious he looked with his disheveled hair mussed across his forehead. And how she should have realized that there was a reason why they hadn't been this close in so long.
Because this happened. This always happened. And she was falling even deeper than she ever had before. And this time, it wasn't even him. It wasn't him that was lecherous and immoral. It was her. It was her who had crossed a line. And he was just being himself.
Because her Chuck was the one who would trap her against a wall and lick hotly up her neck. Finally, Chuck Bass was back.
He was turning in his deep sleep again and she had to look away. The scar at his hip was glaring accusingly at her like she had let this happen. Like it was her fault he was all alone. In some respects it was. In other respects, it was an unfair position to be put in. Even if she liked those positions that Chuck put her in far too much.
She took a deep breath, trying to rid her mind of her betrayal and the hurt, sure of it this time. She was sure that she was going to leave him to himself. No more interfering. No more meddling. She would leave him to move on like he had so desperately wanted. She was sure of it.
Her slick movements made it easier for his arm to slide off of her as she struggled to slide her dress up her thighs without waking him. The dress was surely ruined so she was glad that it was nearly four in the morning at a time where even Gossip Girl spies were resting from their career of ruining her life.
She struggled with a stubborn Louboutin in the foyer, relieved that the button for the elevator was just an arm's length away. Chuck's door was still closed and she was almost home free.
"Leaving so soon?"
Without bothering to look over her shoulder where she knew the husky voice was coming from, she looked back to his room. The doors were still shut and she cursed her stupidity. She hadn't been with him for so long that she had forgotten how smooth and silent he could be. Especially now.
She straightened into a standing position, feeling the warm cage that she had locked herself in fervently the moment she walked into his penthouse that night as he pressed her against the elevator doors. They were cold on her shoulder blades, exposed by her backless dress.
"And I thought we were going to cuddle."
His voice was dripping with disdain and she hated the flutter in her chest. The flutter in her chest that told her that tone could only come from the True Chuck Bass. The True Chuck Bass that had just finished tasting and pleasuring her to a degree that she had really forgotten what was the point in being separated from.
"Sorry to disappoint," Blair sneered back. She was very aware of his bare torso that made it obvious he had been in a hurry to even find pants when he realized she was absent from his bed.
He hadn't even bothered to find his favorite paisley robe to cover his indecency.
"We're not really going to do this, are we?" Chuck asked in the bored tone that she had missed.
"If you recall," Blair replied, "we already did this. We're done. Now we can go back to being two complete different people."
"Would that be easier for you?" Chuck taunted, his hot skin pressed too intimately against hers. His breath was hot against her ear and she wished she could be as indifferent as she pretended. She wished that this didn't change anything. But the only reason she had stayed away before was because the person he had become had pained her.
That wasn't a problem anymore.
"Pretending we aren't tied together anymore?" he laughed bitterly. "I would say my piece again, but we both know how many times you've heard it."
"And it's getting tired," Blair said with determination. For a moment, she let herself be deluded to the fact that he would actually back off.
Distance just made her forget.
His hand was suddenly under her skirt and her eyes rolled back as she set her head against the wall, willing herself not to mewl in pleasure.
"You know, Waldorf," Chuck seemed to contemplate in a tone too casual for the situation, "it would seem to the common observer that you left your underwear back in my room. Why don't we go back there and get it?"
Her breath was quick and harsh and she knew she never really had a choice in anything. He wasn't letting her. And his hand sure as hell wasn't letting her either.
"Oh, I get it," he murmured into her hair. "This was your plan all along. Leave your intimate possessions in my room so you'll just have to come back for more. If you wanted me this much, all you had to do was voice it. Then again, you voiced it pretty loudly the hours we spent together tonight."
Her nails dug into his forearm, attempting to stop the pleasure reverberating from his fingers. But she just couldn't. She couldn't allow herself to stop him. It had been too long.
"Actually," Chuck said, looking nonchalantly at the Rolex clasped to the wrist of the hand that wasn't attending to her. "Last night. Considering we are presently well into the hours of the morning."
Blair forced her eyes open, attempting to glare at him, which only proved to amuse him more.
"Are you prepared to concede yet?" he whispered into her ear. It was in that sentence that she finally found the will in herself to push him away. He stumbled back and again, she had to force herself not to stare at the angry scar across his abdomen.
"Why don't you keep it?" Blair asked as calmly as she was able. "A little trophy as a consolation prize for the fact that you will never see me in this medium ever again."
"But I will see you again?" Chuck asked. "Even you can't stay away from me forever."
He hated the finality in her words. It sounded like every other time she had said that phrase that struck fear and anxiety into his heart. His hand shot out to grasp her arm before she could push the button for the elevator.
"You are not going back to him," Chuck threatened. "Not after tonight. Because I know there isn't anything like us together. You do too. I felt it. The way you clawed your way down my back. I feel it now. No one thrives inside of you like I do. Don't pretend otherwise. Don't pretend like we're anywhere near being over."
Blair wrenched her arm from his death grip.
"And you?" Blair seethed, hating that the hurt still resided painfully in her chest. "What were you doing for a month with some whore that didn't even know your real name?"
"That's different," Chuck said through clenched teeth.
"You were hurt, Chuck," Blair remarked snidely. "I get it. But once again your flair for the dramatics was overblown. Are you going to go on the roof again with a bottle of Jack? Not that it would matter. You moved on, remember?"
"Not particularly," Chuck said. "Because it didn't happen. Or does amnesia suddenly succeed mind blowing orgasms?"
"This night didn't happen," she told him. "You moved on. Why are you stopping me from doing the same?"
"Lest you forget, lover," Chuck smirked dangerously, "that so called obstacle is done for. She and I are done."
"Because she dumped you," Blair laughed cruelly. "Forgive me if being someone's sloppy seconds doesn't exactly do it for me."
"You?" Chuck snapped. "You were always it for me. Being with her was the only way I could forget all of the horrible things I had done to you. But it doesn't matter anymore. Because you still love me. Or maybe in the recesses of my bed, you forgot that you screamed that out in the middle."
"This shouldn't have happened," Blair told him.
"Are you bating me to continue?" he asked as though he had never heard her. "I know you felt it."
"Stop," she told him coldly. She hated it when he had to point out that one undeniable fact. The fact that had always been and would always be true. They were connected. From the time when society dictated they would interact, they were connected. There would always be something between them and that was something that neither of them could deny.
"When you touched me," he uttered hotly, "you rolled your perfect eyes at me like you were so over me and you know what I realized?"
"Chuck," Blair warned.
"You're so not," he sneered. "I may have been drunk and wretching in an alley, but we both know that had all to do with you."
"So you're blaming me for your drunken disorderly?" Blair snapped.
"I'm blaming you for the fact that you made it so painfully obvious that even with a significant other and even in front of mine, you are still so in love with me." She looked away in disgust, an encouragement for him to continue. "Not only that, but even at your pathetic attempt at apathy, you'll do anything to have me. You need me. You want to marry me. You want to bear my children."
He expected another well deserved slap for his audacity which would have proven just how correct he was in his inferences. She was still staring at him against the wall and he knew that by assuming her desires, he had just told her what his were in the same breath. But it didn't matter. Because they were the same. And he knew exactly what he needed to say to get what he wanted.
He knew how to coerce her back into her arms again. Not that it took any concious effort. This was just the way they were. This was right.
"Don't go back to him."
His underlying tone was always a confusion to her, not certain if it was a threat or a plea.
"Was she really what you needed then, Chuck?" Blair asked. "Because he's what I need right now."
"You know this isn't the end," he told her. She wondered if this was him letting her go.
She could only be so lucky.
"You thrust too hard beneath me for it to be any different."
He was pleasantly surprised that she didn't backhand him when he said things of such distinction. He took advantage of her slight weakness, pulling her back into his waiting body.
"I know he doesn't touch you like I do," he said. "He wouldn't even know where to begin. He's nothing."
"Have you convinced yourself?" Blair asked delicately, a threatening whisper of her own. But his smirk was slow and painfully beautiful as she realized she had just given up the last bluff she had. She had given it up that night. She had given it up when she let him slide home with a mutual groan between the two of them.
"Your body is practically humming for me," he breathed harshly. "You think you can just go back after that? Do you think I could have ever gone back since that first night together?"
"You sure as hell tried."
"So did you," he retaliated. "But that really isn't the point, is it? The point is that Dan Humphrey signed his own death warrant when he even attempted to look at you. I promised vengeance. And I always deliver."
"Are you convinced yet?" Chuck taunted.
"You've tried fighting before," she told him. "It doesn't suit you."
"Then why does it constantly happen that it's my always bed that you end up in?" he questioned. "Every time."
They both knew that her retort wouldn't have meant anything so she pushed him away as an answer. He let her press the button to the elevator adamantly. Because he knew that he would always have the last word.
"I think I will keep that article of clothing you seem so desperate to lose," Chuck said, leaning against the wall as she pressed the button for ground floor. "I'll keep it nice and safe for you for when you come back."
He was sure if the doors hadn't been so quick to close, it would have been the second slap he would received at her hand.
None of it mattered. Because they would always be a part of each other. They were born for each other. Made for each other. Her dalliances with Brooklyn charity cases didn't prove any different. He would know.
This time, however, he made it different. Because by the time she reached her Williamsburg lover, their laughable relationship would already be destroyed. He knew her better than anyone and he would always use that to his advantage.
He was Chuck Bass.