A/N: This is a short one but I just had to write it after watching 4x09. Sort of procastinated but here it is. I was advised to have a disclaimer because I reference psychology in here again. But if after reading this you don't understand the Superego and Id reference just look it up and it should become pretty clear. I know I sort of did a "Fallen Angel" one already, but I tried to make this different.

Summary: Blair Waldorf was deception. Blair Waldorf was seduction. Blair Waldorf was an adulteress. Her angelic exterior was just her uniform. And he could see right through it to her black lingerie.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Quotes come from 4x09 of Gossip Girl, Witches of Bushwick. Epicness is all CB. I had nothing to do with that but make them act the way I want them to. Thanks to my awesone beta comewhatmay.x who liked the incorporation of quotes. Because that's what I do.


Saints and sinners has a nice feel.

When residing on the Upper East Side, the Superego always dominated over the Id. It wasn't difficult to determine which was which.

Blair.

Always, always Blair.

Blair was what was proper and accepted in society. Blair was prim. Blair was proper. Blair was always what should be done not what was wanted.

Blair was the Superego to Chuck's always raging Id. Coursing through Chuck's veins was what he desired what he wanted. He never took into consideration his own superego. Chuck Bass was a sociopath. Chuck Bass was sex and rage and hormones. He did what he wanted with no consideration for the moral or ethical complications.

Until it occurred to him.

It was on the very night where a prim and proper saint strutted up in a virginal slip that Chuck caught sight of them. Red, sky-high heels that he imagined digging into his back as he screwed her. Her plain dress fell away and even though all he saw were saintly colors, he could still see those shoes.

That night, as her nails dug until his shoulder blades-to his utter delight and satisfaction-and he was dampened by her virgin blood, he realized something.

Blair Waldorf was not a saint.

She was just a sinner in the perfect disguise.

He had the scars to prove it.

And the obsession.

There is something alluring about an angel drawn to the dark side.

Prim and proper. Perfect.

Saintly.

He couldn't understand it. He couldn't understand how she crossed her legs so innocently and batted her eyelashes so deceptively when just the night before she was thrashing around on her mother's piano.

"All this time."

She was looking at him in that way. That way that she did when she was walking out of that church. That church he was surprised wasn't struck by lightning from his mere proximity.

But ironically, not by hers.

Long ago she had walked out of there with her her modest veil but she had slid it off in favor of dark sunglasses and that was the moment he knew.

Blair Waldorf was deception. Blair Waldorf was seduction. Blair Waldorf was an adulteress. Her angelic exterior was just her uniform. And he could see right through it to her black lingerie.

"Excuse me?"

Standing in her foyer with his red suit from the night before hanging off of him in its rumpled state, he watched her, pulling her silk robe closer to her body. He knew what was really under there. He had seen it as she allowed him to pull her into his chest, savoring the hot inside of her mouth.

Savoring the sin.

The night before had changed things. But she was acting as she always did. Like she was better that that.

But she wasn't.

Chuck stalked forward with steps that made her posture falter. Her own self-assured posture that made him feel like dirt beneath her Louboutins.

He knew better now.

"All this time," he repeated, "I thought you something to behold."

Her glare increased and he knew exactly what lurked beneath her surface.

He had been there.

"I thought you some perfection that didn't deserve to be marred by my scarring urges and wants," he continued. She had backed away further and he was encouraged. "I thought you really had moved on from me. I thought you didn't want me to hurt you anymore. Then I realized, my sweet masochist. You like it."

"Get out," she whispered. She was folding in on herself and he didn't care. He was selfish and he was horrible and all that mattered right now was what he wanted. He wanted her. Always had, always would. It was something that he could never escape, no matter how many good hearts saved him or co-eds that he fucked.

She was his forever.

Forever together.

Forever damned.

He wanted it. And he knew now that so did she.

"Last night changed things," he said. "I know where you live, Waldorf."

"Striking," Blair finally snapped, "considered that's where you decided to violate me last night."

He heard his cold and course laughter echo in his own ears.

"You act like you're better than this," he said. "You're better than falling victim to me just like I'm horrible for letting you in again. But you're not better than this. You're not better than me. You may be society's angel, but you're attracted to darkness. And I'm the darkest there is."

"You think you're the only one for me?" she sneered quietly.

"You said so yourself."

"That was a long while ago," Blair said. "Things have changed."

"We haven't," he answered. "We may fight and hurt each other but you and I will never change. That's why this is never going away."

"Are you done?"

It never ceased to amaze him. Her scalding looks made him feel like he was that sixteen-year-old looking longingly and heartbroken out at the girl whose virginity he had just taken hours before. His hands were shaking with rage and this wasn't the way things were supposed to be. He was the expert. She should be crawling back to him. And again he was barely a speck to her.

The events of last night will never be discussed, is that clear?

He knew better now. He had grown experienced in the world of Blair Waldorf and even though she was the unattainable Old Money New York princess and he was just some nouveau riche who would be never allowed to marry her, he didn't care. Because he knew the truth.

He knew from experience her facade was nothing.

Because he knew exactly what would get to her now.

Not as clear as the memory of you purring in my ear which I have been replaying over and over.

Her nails raked over his neck as she allowed him to kiss her again, slipping his hand beneath her robe to find it was exactly the same lingerie he had defiled from the night before.

He pressed her fiercely against the wall and her black wings beat furiously at the air from her loss of control.

Or a devil redeemed.

She pretended not to like it. She always told herself that she hated it. All of it. She hated his lewd gaze that raked across her form. She hated that she knew he was mentally undressing her. She hated how it excited her.

It was up against a piano with strong hands tearing into her garter that told her lying to herself was just not going to suffice any longer. In the heat of the moment, she could never contain herself. She couldn't control herself that night when she shed that horrid green dress and she couldn't after when she pulled herself up on a piano.

She loved how he made her scream.

She hated that she did.

And now looking at his scarlet and dark appearance, she knew that years wouldn't make a difference. Because looking at him with his customary glass of scotch-

"I suppose you got that Oscar, then."

Necking in some hallway at a party she was throwing as the first function for being at last someone of society, was something she knew was not to be part of her new identity.

The Devil always caught up with her.

Clawing at each other until they bled at a distant wall in an irrelevant party, Blair couldn't help but want to laugh. Because she had spent approximately two minutes hosting until she was in this predicament again and she couldn't truly recall how they had gotten there.

Blair pushed him away so his searching hands couldn't make her forget any more.

"And I'm just supposed to believe that at my first function you just happen to show up?" Blair sneered cruelly. "You never show up for charity."

He smirked. "You know me."

"What are you doing here, Chuck?" Blair asked, hating how for months they barely interacted at all and on the eve of her inception he had abducted her into a small corner.

"You said we had to wait," Chuck shrugged, "so I did."

"I didn't expect you to."

"You did for me."

"When?" Blair laughed.

"Well, you didn't wait without Nathaniel or even Carter Baizen," he said, "but that seemed to work out well enough."

"So you're insinuating that the devil has been redeemed?" Blair asked.

"Redeemed?"

His eyes flashed red-hot at his own incredulous voice giving her a sort of perverse thrill she only ever got when she was alone with him.

"Do you want me to be redeemed?"

His hands had found the front of her modest frock and in a gasp he had ripped it open, staring with satisfaction at her blood red, silk lingerie.

"I don't think you do," he growled into her ear as she trembled in his arms. "I think you want to pretend that you're prim and proper but really reside on the darkness with me. I don't think anything has really changed at all."

"Yes it has," Blair answered breathlessly. "Because before I couldn't get away with being with you. Now I can."

"You are truly wicked," he smirked. Looking at her standing there half dressed, he couldn't help but say it. "I think you're going to be my wife soon."

Her blood red nails sunk into his back as his harsh pants of breath hit her perspiring neck.

"Oh, god."

"Not quite."

Where are you going?

Straight to hell with all the other sinners.