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Disclaimer: I don't own.
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Note: Guess what? I finally got a LiveJournal! And even crazier? I finally made an icon, that's right kiddo's my very first very own Chuck/Serena icon!! Are you proud of me?
Okay, now that that's public knowledge, the story must go on. So, here it is…
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Note again: Oh, also. I realised I've done a lot of Chuck comforts Serena fics, so I thought I'd reverse it. D. Tell me what you think! Also, for the sake of it, lets say Bart, Lilly and Eric are all away on a weekend holiday.
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You pulled open the door, furious, and fully prepared to tell Chuck to go to hell, but the words died in your throat as you noticed his tormented face. You stared at him, moments of silent stretched between you both. "I," his voice cracked with unshed tears, "You're all I have left." You'd hardly heard him; his voice was so soft, unlike the usual arrogant Chuck Bass you were used to. As he finished his confession, he pushed forward, grabbing your blonde locks between his fingers and depositing his lips on top of yours. He pushed your bodies into the room and kicked the door shut as you tasted the alcohol on his tongue. Falling onto your sheets, Chuck wrapped his arm tight around your waste; his lips fusing with yours and his body pressing flush against you. You swatted him away, and for once he obeyed, looking at you with broken eyes and not releasing his hold on your waist. "Please. Please, S, just this once. I need… I need… Something." You hadn't heard him this desperate or pleading or fractured for years, and you pulled him back onto you, kissing harshly, because this was what he needed, and you wished to God this was the first time you'd seen his eyes so lonely.
He ripped at your shirt and yanked your jeans down, and you ground against him. You understood Chuck, you understood Chuck because he was the male version of who you were. This was how he dealt, he drunk, and did drugs, and fucked. This was how you could help him - lend him your body, and then, when he was ready, your shoulder. He plunged a finger deep into you and you bit down violently on his shoulder. This was how he needed it. He couldn't handle soft and gentle, so you gave him hard and violent and aggressive. You had always known what Chuck needed, so you gave it to him, just like old times.
He rode you, because he needed to feel the control, and you met his thrusts, raking your nails down his spine and feeling him grunt in response. He was hard, and fast, and deep, and you had to admit that it was great. You wished you were moaning just for his benefit, but the truth was you were dizzy and your insides were smouldering with pure desire. You wrapped your long legs tight around his hastening hips, and let him clamp down on your neck. As he pushed your hands above your head and down into the mattress you felt his tongue and lips teasing your skin. When the pressure became too much and you thought you were literally going to explode, you let out a scream into his shoulder and your insides clamped down hard around him, sending him over the edge with a deep grunt and a harsh curse. Your eyes rolled as he shuddered within your walls. That had been the hardest, longest, most violent, best fuck you'd ever had.
He fell asleep soon after and you tucked you doona around him and scooted up close, draping your arm around his torso. You didn't sleep, rather opting for watching over him. This entire thing was too familiar, and in your eyes you saw Chuck as that vulnerable seven year old again. The one you'd walked into your bedroom to find sitting on your pillow with tears glistening on his cheeks. He'd kissed you then too, and you'd spent the night kissing under covers. He'd gone there for comfort because he was Chuck Bass and you were Serena Van Der Woodsen, and he knew you'd understand. Even through his waterfall of tears, you'd held him and kissed him and the next morning he'd explained as you brushed your teeth and got ready for school, as Bart called the police out to look for his son.
When Chuck awoke, he stared at you in a daze, piecing together his foggy memory of last night. Sitting up quickly he began to talk, "This doesn't mean that…" But you cut him off, not even wanting to know what he was thinking.
"Feeling better?" Rubbing his short brown hair briefly he cracked a small smile.
"I always knew you wanted me, sis." You punched his arm, and rolled your eyes but still drew him into a tight hug, silently promising everything Blair refused to give. "Why is it always you who makes me feel better?" His question wasn't sarcastic, nor was it said as a joke, it was a serious question. You thought for a while and eventually replied.
"Because we're siblings and long before that we were friends." Chuck laid his hand on yours briefly before waltzing into your bathroom. He'd come to you because he knew you'd understand and you had; just like old times you'd been the only one who would know what he needed and could give it to him. You'd given him your body and your shoulder and your bed, and in return he'd taken off that mask of womanizing and cruel intentions.
You'd always know what he needed, because he was Chuck Bass and you were Serena Van Der Woodsen and you'd always understood.
Note: Anything? What do you think? Constructive criticism is always appreciated. If you loved it, tell me. If you hated it, help me. And if you were indifferent, well I'm sorry, but you could still review anyway…
Thanks for reading.