A/N: I had this idea in my head ever since I heard about the AMAZING sex that was about to come. Last night did not disappoint. I would argue that it was one of the best Chuck and Blair scenes but I wouldn't want to upset the Limo fans. ANYWAY, there will be probably be loads of fics like this but after last night's episode, I couldn't not write it.

Summary: He had no control over his body. They stared at each other for a mere moment but he knew what he had come here to do all along. It wasn't the revoke the treaty and it wasn't to convey to her the betrayal they had just instigated. He had come here for one thing and one thing only.

Disclaimer: This is to three verses of the Violent Femmes' "Add it Up." When you see the italics, you'll know why. I seriously recommend listening to it. Some of Chuck's dialogue is also from the lyrics. Thank you to the amazing beta comewhatmay.x who beta-ed this in record time.


"Being amicable isn't in our blood. We aren't friends."

He wanted to believe it was because friends had to like each other. But he knew the truth. He knew why they couldn't be friends. It was either this blinding and seething beast of hatred that consumed his very being or...

Or that desperate thing that he would never let himself think of after the words I don't love you anymore left her perfectly painted mouth. The thing that involved a Harry Winston diamond that still lay at the bottom of his safe. The alternative was something he couldn't permit himself to think about. It had to be either one or the other. Or both. Because anything else meant that they would forget each other.

And both of them knew that would never happen.

"Every nerve ending in my body is electrified by hatred."

He hated how beautiful she looked. He hated how haughty she was. He hated how he still looked at the perfection before him and was becoming more and more acutely aware of the sturdy piano behind him.

"There is a fiery pit of hate burning inside me waiting to explode."

They could always build off of each other in this way. They always could identify with each other and know each other better than anyone else.

"So it's settled then."

"We're settled," he said with short finality. And realizing how close they had been walking towards each other and the vibrant red that matched them like their equally passionate souls, he should have known. He should have known that everything they had been through had been building towards this.

Her eyes were drawn to the hands tearing up their treaty and he relished in the fact that the entirety of the body that he had missed so fervently tensed in a flinch. What he had mistaken for anger was still coursing through his veins and he only just realized what the masked emotion was as the fluttering pieces of peace were thrown onto the ground.

Her face betrayed the same finality in his voice and he knew it. He just knew it. This wasn't the end. Not with her looking at him like that. Not when he had seen something he had never wanted to put his hands on so badly.

He understood why he had come tonight. That clause that forbade them from any sort of touching and he loved ripping that document apart because now he could do what he came here to do. Now there was no stopping him.

There was something in his eyes. He knew he betrayed nothing but desperation and need because for a split second, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He then realized his hand was at the back of her neck. She was stiff but she never gave off one ounce of fear.

She stared daringly back into his eyes even though the hand on her neck could very well snap it in half. He always marveled at how petite and fragile she appeared to be when she was truly a powerful force to be reckoned with.

He had no control over his body. They stared at each other for a mere moment but he knew what he had come here to do all along. It wasn't the revoke the treaty and it wasn't to convey to her the betrayal they had just instigated. He had come here for one thing and one thing only.

There lips met in an explosion. Her hand met his should for the briefest of seconds and he knew that it had not even reached her mind to resist him as she wrapped her arms around him so there was no space between their writhing bodies.

Why can't I get just one kiss?
Why can't I get just one kiss?
Believe me, some things that I just wouldn't miss
But I look at your pants and I need a kiss

Blair Waldorf's eyes snapped open and she knew exactly where she was. She knew exactly what she had done the previous night and exactly whom it was with.

She knew the man that was stirring by her side and she knew she couldn't let him get any farther than that. The previous night was something that she could honestly admit she had never done before. She had done some unimaginable things that included a burlesque striptease and shedding her virginity into the smug arms of a shameless womanizer.

She had never done any such thing, however, on her mother's piano. The same piano that same man's hands played effortlessly while constructing dates with their doppelgangers. This was different. This was real. This was something that she couldn't take back even if she wanted to.

She opened her eyes to see his discarded jacket right where he thrust it away from himself as he stared heatedly at her. She clenched her eyes shut only to know that memories that still reverberated through her thighs would be the only thing flashing across her closed lids.

His mouth had burned hers and instinct had kicked in. Instinct that she didn't remember how long ago she had used. She hadn't pushed him away. Nothing in her body would let her. Instead she had clung to him even closer and his well-practiced body swiveled her, pushing her in the direction of their mutual consummation.

She had found herself pulling herself onto her own mother's piano before his familiar hands wrapped around her thighs, thrusting her upward in a primal move that neither of them could deny. Lips seethed. Teeth gnashed. Fingers searched. She couldn't remember a time when it had been this desperate and this necessary. But it was. She could tell his urgency from the very way he touched her.

His hands had fisted her hair and dragged across her dress as she attempted to find a way to rid him of his cumbersome jacket. He had pulled away completely in all encompassing frustration, tearing his jacket away before lunging at her again. Even then she had known her hips would be bruised that morning but as her legs wrapped around him, she had known it was completely irrelevant. His hands were hot and powerful and she knew what was coming. She knew there were barely any barriers left and she could find completion at last at their inevitable and long awaited coupling.

She hadn't cared. She really hadn't. She hadn't cared how hasty this was and hate filled. He wanted her. He needed her. And he was going to have her on her piano like she wanted him to. Like he wanted to.

He hadn't bothered with the garter. She had felt his tension his broad shoulders and his insistence to get her stockings off as quickly as possible. There was no dallying with the clip as he completely ripped it off in his haste.

And she hadn't cared. He had only pulled away when his need reached its peak and had to look at his hands to make sure her clothing was being properly torn away. And then he had been at her neck again. The neck that he had so often loved before, almost as much as her. It was only that way he could show his love because she knew that they hated each other. That's what this was for. They didn't love each other.

At least, that was what she wanted him to believe.

She hadn't been able to help how her mouth opened in what she attempted at a restrained groan of passion. She couldn't help her furrowed brows at her need and the exact way he knew how to touch her.

And only him. He grabbed her around the waist and she knew it was all over.

The last thing she could think of was how she threw her head back.

Her screams drowned out everything else.

"I know."

Blair's eyes snapped open from her reverie to hear his voice slick with the husk of sex he coated on her throughout the night. She knew he was always in her head. He was always analyzing her, feeling her, reading her.

He always knew what she was thinking.

"I know you're thinking about it."

His hot breath brushed her ear and she attempted not to turn in his direction as she felt slick with want again. But this wasn't happening. This was just a one-time thing. It had to be. Because if this continued, she knew it would never stop between the two of them.

It never really did.

"About what we did," he continued hotly. It was futile to attempt to stop her eyes from rolling back. "On your mother's piano."

She wanted to whisper that this all had to stop but the truth was that she didn't want it to.

"I hope she pays Dorota overtime because it will take hours to clean up the mess we made."

Blair sat straight up, ignoring his presence because he was making something blatantly clear as he crowded her personal space. This was a game to him. He was Chuck Bass. This was just sex. She had killed any love that he had for her. She thought that was what she wanted.

She was wrong.

It was that one word that disturbed her.

We.

The mess we made.

This wasn't right. There was no we anymore. But she hated how she wanted it to be.

"You need to leave," Blair replied succinctly, focusing on his jacket that still decorated the floor. Her peripheral vision spotted a discarded shirt that could only belong to him and his body heat made her uncomfortably aware that he was just as naked as he was when they moved the party from the piano to the floor.

And he was right.

They had made a mess that was evidence in the sticky residue between her thighs.

This was a problem.

"So soon?" he mocked in her ear. She still refused to look at him. "You weren't exactly begging me to leave last night."

"Last night was a mistake," Blair articulated. She didn't care how hot the naked chest he was pressing to her bare back was. She refused to give him even one backward glance.

"All of last night?" he prodded. Her eyes fluttered closed. "You didn't exactly complain while you were raking your nails down my back."

"We hate each other."

She wished she didn't sound like she was trying to convince herself.

"We do."

She couldn't tell his inflection without looking at him.

But she wasn't doing that.

The cold band of his watch that he hadn't taken off pressed against her stomach as he unexpectedly wound his arm around her waist, pulling her against his vulnerability as he rasped throatily in her ear.

"That's why it's so good."

She hated the way he said the word good and how it made her tremble.

"Feels like you agree with me, princess."

With as much dignity as she could possess, she attempted to roll away from him to the safety of the carpeted floor towards her mangled looking dress that she was surprised hadn't been torn to shreds by morning.

She passed his pants. The ones that she vividly recalled thrusting her hand down as his hands grabbed her face and kissed it so hard she wanted to scream. The ones that resulted in his definitive groan as she squeezed him for all he was worth.

"Are you really going to play this game right now, Waldorf?"

She hated his lazy sigh and how she knew he was making himself so comfortable on the floor of the living room with her. She was starting to realize that she didn't remember if Serena came home or not.

"Those weren't just your screams," he reminded her. "Like you were just some virginal innocent that I took advantage of. You and I both know whose heels dug into my back."

She didn't think she would have noticed.

"You always did like it on top."

Finally donning at least a slip, Blair looked at the remains of her black, lace stockings, ignoring jarring words that she knew were nothing but the truth. She finally found it in herself to turn towards Chuck who was eying her appreciatively with his predatory gaze.

"You owe me a pair of stockings," she said precisely. Finally his eyes dragged up to her face and she knew she hadn't gotten nearly far enough away from him.

"It would be my pleasure," he smirked, nearing her at an uncomfortable pace. "As long as I get to see what's underneath them again."

"How unfortunate for you," Blair said with as much indifference as she could possess. "This was just a one-time incident."

"It wasn't just one time," he reminded her. "Lest you forget, we started this little reconciliation of ours on that sturdy instrument of yours. We're no longer up there."

"This isn't a reconciliation and don't delude yourself into thinking that anything has changed since last night," she said coldly.

"The only thing that has changed since last night is the realization that I can hold this much hatred and desire for you in the same body," he informed her dutifully. "The same body that can coincidently hold you up against a piano all night. How many of your poor excuses for partners would you say can do that?"

He always did have that stinging pride about being the only one who could really make her scream.

"This thing between us isn't going anywhere and I propose we use it to our full advantage."

She hated how the word propose rang in her ears just like how Waldorf-Bass sounded so perfect intertwined together to make one perfect unit.

A perfect unit that would never be.

"I propose you leave this instant before I call security," Blair answered. His dark chuckle was condescending and she was very aware of his abandoned pants behind her. The sound of metal scraping together as he had unbuckled his belt hastily still rang in her ears.

"I doubt you're in any rush to allow men on your mother's payroll to see you in such a condition," Chuck answered, his eyes no longer on her face again.

"I'll kick you out myself," she snapped.

"Not likely," he answered in an almost bored tone. "You and I both know that will just result in another passionate encounter. And then we may wake the tenants below us. And we don't want that, now do we, lover?"

"Get out," Blair seethed, feeling that familiar anger that she knew she had to be wary of now. Because he was right. It would only result into another heated embrace. And that was something that would only lead to trouble.

"I'll leave," he finally conceded. "But just on one condition."

"What?" she asked, knowing that very question would be the end of her.

"Just one kiss."

"No."

"Why can't I get just one goodbye kiss?" he asked in that smarmy tone that was supposed to pass off as innocent.

"Because it won't be just one."

"That I would have to agree with," he said slyly, nearing her just like he had hours before when the night was electrified with hate and desperation. "You really don't know what it does to me. What you do to me. Seeing you like this. In only the way I can."

He needed to kiss her.

Blair closed her legs self consciously, wishing her dress wasn't stuck behind the piano. She knew he would only take advantage of her vulnerability and she was on her back again as he hovered over her.

"I need it." She knew there would be no fleeting brushing of lips as his mouth bore down on hers just as it had the previous night.

She didn't struggle this time either.

Why can't I get just one screw?
Why can't I get just one screw?
Believe me, I'd know what to do.
But something won't let me make love to you.

It was unfair. All of this was unfair. She couldn't be doing this to him. She looked so prim and so proper but he knew the depraved things she let him do to her in the dark of the night. Those things he knew she liked. For the rest of his life he would throw how the corner of the piano had dug into her back right at her because this was right. He hated it. He hated her. But there was nothing like her and there never would be again.

She looked perfect. She sat next to his blonde stepsister and she looked nothing but perfect and ladylike.

And completely fuckable.

He remembered how those heels of hers bruised his lowerback. He wore the scars with pride.

Serena spotted him first, by the looks of it. Blair's perfect spine straightened rigidly but before she could make her break for it, he sat himself at the table right next to her. Her back was to him and he could feel Eleanor's fiery gaze on him but he didn't care.

He was getting this. Hell, he deserved this. He deserved her. More than anyone.

"Chuck."

It wasn't that voice who moaned and groaned and purred his name in a flurry of deeply set screams. Chuck glared at Serena. His name was a warning. But he knew his strength in this situation. Blair was refusing to look at him just as she had that very morning and he knew he was about to win.

He slid his palm up Blair's spine and relished in her tentative shiver. He leaned over Blair's shoulder so he could whisper in her ear.

"You didn't give me nearly enough tongue this morning."

He felt Blair's reaction in her body as she threw him off, leaping to her feet.

"Stay away from her," Serena warned.

"I guess you weren't properly informed, sis," Chuck sneered. "But Blair let me screw her up and down that piano in the corner there. Without an ounce of resistance. I'm not the antagonist, here. I'm the victim."

"Victim?"

Blair had whirled to face him, fury clouding her face.

He needed to be inside of her again.

"We both know that while your other significant others would fumble around you to your dissatisfaction, you were thinking of me," Chuck said smugly. "You know I am the only one who knows what to do. How to go down on you."

He took a step forward and she faltered, knowing this was the exact reaction he was going for. No matter what she did, it would work in his favor.

"But you just won't let me."

He needed to screw her.

Last night was proof of that.

"Why can't you just give me one more screw?" he asked delicately.

He didn't care about Eleanor's eyes that bore into his back.

Why can't I get just one fuck?
Why can't I get just one fuck?
I guess it's got something to do with luck
But I've waited my whole life for just one

He expected a slap. He knew that would be the gunshot causing a chain reaction of this time her pulling him into her own waiting body. But she didn't. She was too furious.

"How could you say that in front of my mother?"

"It's not my fault," Chuck said. "Never once have you withheld from me like that. You backed me into a corner."

"Did I?" she asked in disbelief. He found it infinitely easier this way. Alone in her bedroom with a conveniently locked door. A bed that he hadn't been in for months and needed to feel it in the heat of anger like he needed to be inside her.

"You don't seem to be aware of what a tease you are," he told her. "You can't give me a night like that and just walk away."

"I can," she answered. "Because we aren't anything."

"We are," he contradicted. "If we were nothing then we wouldn't be having this conversation. As fate would have it, we're enemies. And I've never had an enemy that I like to give it to as much as you."

He needed to fuck her.

"Last night was a fluke," Blair said sternly but he knew her resolve was wavering. He knew that she needed this as much as he did. "How else do you explain it?"

"I don't," he answered. "I don't explain anything. I don't say anything when I'm in your thighs."

His voice had lowered to his husky whisper and she knew he was too close. this wasn't right. This wasn't fair. This wasn't supposed to be happening to her.

"Just your name and groans of satisfaction. Because you're the only one who can give it to me, lover."

But she couldn't push him away. She didn't that night and she wasn't going to do it right now.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he requested. "Tell me you weren't right there with me."

No words could leave her mouth and he knew his answer. He leaned even closer to her.

"I would love to love you, lover," he murmured.

"But you don't," Blair answered. He knew that was a loaded gun within itself and knew there was no way of answering it. No way but the right way.

Her vanity shook as he pushed her against the mirror in a reflection of the previous night. Her back arched from the cold chill but it just made him kiss her harder.

"We're not friends," she whispered as he bit into her shoulder.

"No," he agreed. "We can never be friends again. Not when we feel like this."

"We're enemies, Chuck." She said his name for the first time since she screamed it to the high ceiling and he found himself riding her skirt up again.

"Just one," he requested. "Just one more."

"It can never be just one more," she said. "Not with us. That's what scares me."

He pulled away.

"Then it won't be just one more."

She wanted to disagree but the shaking of her vanity was testament to the fact that she ust jcouldn't.