A/N: Just a warning, I wrote this before the finale, so if it seems that this doesn't really match, that's the reason why. Personally, this is a nice fic to submit after my heart broke on Monday. Not because of the subject matter, but because it's so vague about what's to come, yet in my opinion, stays true to what Chuck and Blair still could be. Because I choose to still have faith. It's the only way I can continue on with writing them. So I hope you continue the journey with me.

Summary: I almost forgot how much I used to enjoy your pie.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Title is inspired by Florence + the Machine. Quotes are from various times in GG history-which I miss-2x08, 4x05, 4x08, and 4x20. Thanks to my amazing beta comewhatmay.x who always talks me down from the ledge.

I just have to finish something.

A limo. A kiss. A lick.

She was new at this. It was something she had never understood with her incredibly boring first boyfriend. Something she never knew existed.


So much pleasure she was speechless.



A limo. A kiss. A lick.

Except that he wasn't kissing her face.

Her mouth was agape, speechless with a sensation that she was a virgin to.

Like everything else when it came to him.

And when he went away and took all that pleasure away with him, she couldn't help but dream.

She couldn't help but dream of him in the limo, on his knees, giving her something no one ever could or ever would again.

He had forbidden it.

She woke up with a start.

I almost forgot how much I used to enjoy your pie.

He was getting more dangerous. Not that anyone could say that he wasn't dangerous to begin with. And it wasn't even through his actions that he portrayed his audacity.

It was his words. Just his words where he was bold and brazen and she couldn't help but think about how those words were attached to that tongue and what that tongue did to places she used to blush about.

But after stripping down to a slip (more than once) in the devil's lair (more than once) it was hard to find shame in anything. Especially when it was so enjoyable.

She was sweet. That was the only way he could think of describing it.

And he liked describing it.

Whispering into her ear in public and dark corners, he relished in the shiver she tried to disguise as disgust. But he really knew the pleasure that twisted her body when he would get onto his knees for her.

She was sweet.

He would never describe anyone else as such in such a complimentary fashion, but it was the truth. His tongue was coated with her and she tasted like cherries. Like the cherries she actually prided herself on having.

And she had a lot to be proud of.

He liked doing it. She would be the only one he could ever say that about, just like she was the only one to ever have him wholly.

And he had all of her.

Every last delicious drop.

How he enjoyed it.

This has got to end.

I thought I just did.

She pushed him away. It was the way that she always did when they broke past each other's defenses to once again come across the realization. The realization that they were meant for each other, and each other only. It was a tiring process, but if it meant that games would one day turn into white dresses with corresponding diamonds, he would take it. He would take it all.

No matter how much she tried to push him away.

He would always break past her defenses. He was the only one with the key and as undignified as she pretended it was, they both knew it was easier to resort her to a truthful quivering mess and extract her true feelings when his head was buried beneath her covers.

Blue duvets blocked out noise, but then again, he didn't need to hear her to feel the vibrations of her shrieks.

She liked keeping him hidden. And in contrast to the indignant sixteen year old he had once been, he couldn't have a problem with it now. Because public meant feelings and feelings meant she would just leave again.

He would rather have this. He would rather have her adorable denial, knowing that the truth always came out as he traveled down her body.

He always finished her off with his mouth on her.

She pushed him away.

He rested his chin on the black lace of her abdomen, relishing in the feeling of their emotional intimacy, her breaths causing him to rise and fall. He stroked her hip with a gentle caress and she didn't push him away.

They never ended for long.

I was always eating her cake.

He wanted it. He wanted this. It was nothing like he had ever felt before, and even though he wasn't shy about his verbal expression of his love for her any longer, he knew it wasn't enough. She knew the words. She knew the speeches.

All he had left were actions.

He worshipped her.

She was sweet enough to grace him with her presence and he knew there was only one way he could ever make that clear to her.

The element of surprise.


It wasn't a threat. It wasn't a warning. It was barely a plea. It was just a statement.

Because both of them knew where it would lead.

"Did you keep your promise?"

"And what promise would that be?"

"Has any other man ever done to you what I do?"

"Specify the context," she said. "You've done a lot of things to me."

All it took was a nudge and her thighs parted for him.

"Have you let anyone else be with you this way?"

"Like you have a right to ask me that."

"You promised."

"It seemed reasonable at the time."

"And now?"

"Don't come any closer."

He was too close.

"You smell like sugar."

Close enough to smell her.

"Has there been anyone else?"

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" she challenged.

He kissed her.

Just not on her face.

"You wouldn't do that to me."

"What makes you so sure?"

She was challenging him again.

Just because she could.

"You taste like sugar."

He wasn't talking about her mouth.

"Like you always do."

"I made a promise."

"Even though were aren't dating anymore?"

"I don't know what we are."

And she would still dream of him tonight.

He was the only man to get on his knees for her.

She liked it that way.