War at the roses

This is a one-shot I've written after S04E07, War at the roses, about Chuck and Blair's encounter at the end of the episode. I hope you'll enjoy it!

There characters and some of the lines do not belong to me.

Everyone knew that she was the queen of pretending and hiding. She mastered the art of not showing her feelings perfectly and everyone fell for the act, everyone but him. Since that fateful day when she lost her virginity in the back of his limo, he became the person that will always know who she really was. Once, before they admitted their feelings for each other, he proved how good he read her…"the cool exterior, the fire below". And even if he made it sound dirty, he was hiding the true meaning of his words that day.

He did recognize the value of this girl, this beautiful, intelligent, sadistic and challenging woman that had always been the object of his interests and desires in some way, even before their long and convoluted romance started. The day when she was supposed to get officially engaged with his best friend, when the boy she loved all her childhood betrayed her and she chose to lose her innocence with him, the most unworthy man on the planet. And he understood what great a gift was given to him, by who knows what sick-humored deity. With other girls, he would have considered them cheap in the same circumstances, but Blair could never be cheap. A pearl that falls onto the ground still remains beautiful, delicate and valuable. And somehow he got to have her, him, from all the people, and always, not matter how hard he tried, he let himself and his insecurities get in the way of making this woman happy.

He destroyed her, again and again, but somehow she always came back up, more beautiful than ever. Like she was tonight. Still more beautiful and more unnerving than ever, and this raised his anger more than anything else in the world. How can she stay here like this, looking so beautiful and strong, when I'm so scathed and hurt without her? He could never be wholesome without her and that knowledge enraged him the most. He could never be himself and happy. Even with Eva, who she managed to banish, he was trying to be someone else. And he was furious, because he knew, that even without her intervention, it wouldn't have worked out. There was only one woman for him, the one who had been standing in front of him just a few hours ago, shooting daggers at him, accusing him of a bad deed that wasn't his this time… and she will never be his ever again. He made sure of that when he slept with Jenny, taking the fucked-up little girl's virginity the day he was supposed to propose to Blair. In comparison to what happened with Blair, doing this to Jenny made him feel like he had hit the lowest low.

He went to Europe for the summer, disappeared and then he came back with Eva, a Check girl, who had no idea of how it is to live amongst the young elites of New York. He did care about her, and when Blair chased her away, he didn't have anything to care about anymore. His self-hatred came back and so he started the stupid war with the person he loved the most in his pitiful existence. They were at peace until tonight, called a truce a few days before, which included so many articles that imposed so many restrictions that it was making him crazy. At least he was allowed to find excuses to see her from time to time in social settings, but he wasn't allowed to touch her or engage in a conversation more elaborate than social pleasantries. He preferred the war status, at least he could see her more, and he had to confess, making her squirm had always been a pleasure.

Everything was lost and he never felt more than what he felt right now. His head was swimming in anger, lust, self-deprecation, hopelessness. He felt like a severely wound animal, whose last reaction is to fight back with all his power and destroy himself and all the people around him.

He saw her moving though the house and he delayed the moment he made his presence known. He just wanted to look at her for a few more moments, like this, like he used to when she was his and he used to think he could look at her like this forever. She looked tired, he thought, but somehow at peace and that made his blood boil even more. She was at peace and he was at war with the world and himself.

As she was passing through the foyer one more time on the way to bed, turning out the lights through her big Upper East-Side apartment, she couldn't feel more desolated. This night, her 20th birthday, should have been perfect. And everything that could go wrong, went wrong and then some. Humphrey got his revenge, showing that horrid video of the night she got too drunk and went up on stage at that concert and made a fool out of herself, the armistice between her and Chuck suffered a big hit, she was publically embarrassed in front of all her high-profile guests… it was a disaster. She remembered her past birthdays and realized that during the past years, Charles had always had a role in the celebrations. For her 18th he gave her that wonderful diamond necklace and she slept with him, even when she still wanted Nathaniel and that was the start of all the drama that has happened in the past two years. Last year was perfect, there was no big party, just the two of them together and at peace, celebrating quietly. She had thought that she was finally growing up, that they were growing up, no more schemes and misunderstandings. But how wrong she had been. Today, when she became two decades old, she couldn't feel more as a little girl. Throwing tantrums, falling over her own two feet, metaphorically, of course, she could walk on heels from when she turned five. And confessing to Chuck the fact that she had been looking for him when he was missing. All the summer she had been looking frantically and always fearful that something had really happened to him, even after what she went through because of him, her heart constricted each time the thought of something bad happening to him passed through her mind. And she told him that, as if he didn't have enough power over her. "I have to admit, though, I was a little bit disappointed when he came back with that European bimbo, his death would have had more meaning. ", she thought to herself. They knew each other too well, they knew where to strike to have the most efficient effect. Yes, everything that could have gone wrong did, and now she was just tired and surprised that she didn't really care about tonight's social disaster.

Reaching the stairs she could see a form moving in the living-room, it was a man. She started for a moment, and then she recognized the bow tie from Chuck's suit. Her brows shot up in surprise and she thought that for a moment she felt a tinge of excitement. What was he doing here? But she smothered all these feelings remembering her confession from earlier. She knew he won't let it pass, but at least she hoped, he'll let it go until the next day. "It's my birthday, for Heaven's sake, can't I have some piece of mind!" . She walked to him, feeling naked and exposed in front of him, now that he knew she had been looking for him before he came back to New York.

"Chuck, what are you still doing here? I kicked you out hours ago!" she tried, managing to make it sound like she was exasperated.

He picked up the manila folder containing their truce from the table and he came closer to her.

"I came back to tell you that after this evening, the truce is over."

She stepped defiantly closer, pretending to be bored "Fine by me. This pretence of civility was exhausting." , she said, waving her hand in front of his face, as if she was brushing him off.

"Being amicable isn't in our blood. We can't be friends, friends have to like each other." The moment the words left his mouth he realized that this conversation was making him more alive that he felt during the past six months. He was addicted to her, no one could ever fuel him like this, so he continued.

"I can never like you" and the words were screaming in his head.

I despise what you've made of me, I don't know what I feel about you, but I can't live far away from you.

With a sarcastic smile she replied "I can't like you either. I. Hate. You." And she felt jolts of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

He moved in front of the piano, stepping closer to her, as if his words could have a greater impact on her if he shot them from a close range, he seethed "I never hated anyone…more" or wanted, he thought, feeling his arousal growing. She was still the most appealing female he had ever met, standing defiantly in front of him, looking perfect and stronger that he had ever been. Her brown hair was flowing in soft waves over her right shoulder, leaving her right shoulder exposed, her full lips were parted and she was breathing heavily, showing clearly that she was getting a little worked up over this conversation. She was always beautiful, but when angry, she was entrancing.

She was giddy, this contest of insults was such a great relief. Sarcastically, she shot back "Every nerve ending in my body is electrified..by hate". Weirdly enough, she didn't feel at all insulted, just excited and awake.

"I have a burning pit of hatred inside of me, waiting to explode", he retorted.

Slapping him would feel even better, but I prefer not to touch him, I'm sure I'll get some… sort of disease.

And she realized that somewhere during the conversation they came dangerously close to each other. The silence was deafening and she was trying to control her breathing that was starting to become more and more labored. Her cheeks were burning and she could feel his intoxicating scent, of boy and soap and expensive perfume, so familiar and it made her nervous. His eyes were piercing through her, and she felt like she was losing ground, she shouldn't have allowed him to get so close and all sorts of alarms started ringing in her head.

"So it's…settled?", he asked, towering over her.

Raising her chin to match his height she answered "It's settled…", feeling that a hint of sadness had escaped through her words. "Who knows where this will take us."

Very ceremoniously he raised the manila folder between the two of them, and ripped it in two. His hands could feel the heat of her body and the moment the ripping sound broke the silence in the room, one single thought roared surprisingly through his head, so loud that every nerve in his body felt commanded to act.

Now I can touch her.

When he ripped the folder, she let out the breath that she had been holding since she saw that he was still here, thinking "Oh well, glad that's over, now we can go back to whatever we were doing before this abomination of a truce was forced upon us by our friends." But when she raised her eyes to his, to ask him to leave, the glint in his eyes stopped her in her tracks. This determined look was strangely familiar and sent shivers down her spine.

He threw the torn pieces of their promises to behave on the ground and through a daze, his right hand grabbed her by the nape of her neck, acting by it's own accord. She felt hypnotized and she couldn't do anything but frown , not understanding his actions.

What is he doing?

He held her there for a moment, not moving, just looking her in the eyes. He knew she wanted this too, he just needed to make sure she understood what he wanted before he moved. The moment understanding dawned, her lips parted in a gasp and she threw her arms around his neck and his left hand grabbed her by the small of her back, pulling her body closer. Their mouths met, feverish and hungry, their bodies waking up to each other after the long separation, having the same reactions they always did to each other. She was moaning and already panting uncontrollably, even if he had just barely touched her and nothing mattered anymore, no alarm or warning thoughts were going through her mind, right now she was only nerves and feeling.

He turned them around, so she was with the back to the piano, picked her up by the waist and placed her on the lid of the imposing instrument, stepping between her open legs that were pulling him closer to her heated body. His ears were ringing and he could feel his blood reaching boiling point in his veins. His hands felt like magnets to her body, her form always an enchantment to his senses. He desired her more than ever and right now he was feeling all the longing he hadn't allowed himself to feel all the time she was away. She smelled different, wearing a different fragrance maybe, but he could still detect the familiar scent that made her Blair, all woman and soft and appealing.

Her hands started moving pulling frantically at his clothes, needing to feel skin on skin. Not taking his lips off his she pushed his jacket down his shoulders and moved her hands to his belt buckle. Both their free hands were hastily making quick work of her dress, bunching it up around her waist. She was wearing black stockings and lace garter belts and her shapely legs were more beautiful than ever. But he couldn't give them more than one moment and with urgency he moved his hands to her panties. She was already soaked, ready for him, still reacting to his touch. He was watching her face in amazement, her head was slightly tipped back, her cheeks flushed, panting in ecstasy, her eyes hooded and looking hungrily at his hands as he was tearing the flimsy pieces of lace off her body, pulling at the elastic of her garter belt and pushing one stocking over her bended knee. His fingers were touching her, slipping into heat and moist, the scent of her heady arousal filling his nostrils. She was now moaning loudly at his knowing ministrations and he wanted to have her, to show her that she was still his, proud he could still elicit these reactions out of her.

She was on fire. His touch was everywhere, and where he touched, her body came to life, and all she could think was MORE, MORE, MORE. His scent was making her drunk and he was all lips and tongue and hot over exposed skin. He pulled at one of the straps of her burgundy dress, bearing one of her luscious breasts to his hungry mouth and while his mouth was lavishing her sensitive peak, one of her hands shot to his hair, pulling, pushing closer, needing to feel, to make him feel, while the other was battling with his too-dressed body. After a few moments of pulling and tugging, his buckle was finally undone and she started pulling at his black slacks. She could feel the effect that all this was having on him. When her hand touched his arousal through his boxers they both moaned incoherently each other's names. Her head was swimming.

Without any further ceremony, her hand slipped on bare soft skin over hard flesh and pulled him out, pulling him close with her legs and positioning him at her entrance. He stopped his frantic 'reconquista' of her body and supported her upper body with both arms, tilting her back and looking at her, really looking at her. Her brown eyes were soft and the tiredness of the day's events were still haunting at the edges. But she was watching him, pure unadulterated lust in her expectant gaze. She was extraordinary, still the best he ever had, the best he would ever have. Holding his breath he slipped into her, letting all the feelings washing over him, moaning with her, moving with her, the room resounding with pants and groans and moans. He was happy, so happy that his heart was breaking because he knew this won't last, but not regretting what was happening. "At least I got to have her one more time, my beautiful temptress", he thought and had to dip his head under her chin, kissing her neck so she could not see his eyes and vulnerability.

But she could see him and what this was doing to him, but she chose not to interpret anything, her mind in a haze, drunk on his touch. "More", she moaned and he obliged, lowering her body to the piano and grabbing her hips, the look on his face changing in a moment, the determined domineering glint returning to his face. This was her Charles, the one that one moment could look at her like he was a lost child, the next becoming the master of her every feeling, controlling her body, playing her expertly. He increased the pace, his heated gaze travelling over her body, enticingly half-exposed to his eyes, his hips pounding her forcefully and her rising to meet him, receiving every thrust. Her moans increased in volume and he knew she was close too. He wanted her to come, but she had to beg, after all that happened, even though he felt like the most fateful slave to her needs, he still wanted to prove her that he had command over her body.

He picked her up from the piano, setting her on her high-heeled clad feet and spun her around to face the piano. One hand in her hair at the nape of her neck, the other travelling torturously slow over her front, he brushed her lower lips with his expert fingers.

"Please", she said "…more".

"What do you want?"

"You, I want you, please."

He slowly bended her on the piano and bunched her dress back up, so her behind was exposed to him. And this delicious vision was his undoing. The straps of the garter belt over her buttocks, pulling at her black stockings, her hair mussed up in a halo around her head, her cheek pressed on the piano lid, her beautiful profile in sight, her arms white, splayed on the black polished surface. So he obliged and thrust back into her, giving her no time for adjusting and pounding away into oblivion. Very soon she started pulsing around him, moaning his name and scratching at the polished wood, trying to get some purchase, to brace herself. He grabbed her hair and brought her face close to him, slipping his other hand into her folds, helping her to get there and after a few more thrusts, she exploded moaning loudly, not caring that her mother was at home and that Dorota could probably hear her from the servants room downstairs. She was trashing around the piano uncontrollably, and he knew that this was his cue and let go, letting his climax tear through him and purify all the anger that had built while they were away.

When the waves of their orgasms started fading, he grabbed her and pulled them both down on the floor, their breathing erratic. They stood like this for a few moments, her back to his front, his face in her hair. She was positively basking in this afterglow and every cell in her body was telling her how much she had missed him, but now that her head was no more clouded with lust, she started realizing that this was everything that it's ever going to be. Too much had happened and as confusing as this is to her, she had to reestablish the distance.

Still with her back to him, she got up, fixed her dress over her ruined undergarments, brushing her hair back into submission and very slowly turned to face him.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, I'm sure you can see yourself out", she squeaked and planted a plastic smile over her swollen lips.

"I hope you'll have an enjoyable evening" she stammered to him, knowing that none of them will be able to sleep a wink that night. She gave him a last look, still on the floor, his pants still open and his hair a mess, looking more like a vision than a real person. With that, she sprinted on the stairs, not letting herself be in his presence one second more.

Yes, everything that could go wrong tonight, did.

So there it is, I hoped you liked it. Don't know if I'm gonna make a story out of it.