AN: I wrote this short oneshot after reading the poem "Persephone Speaks" by Daniella Michallen. Chuck and Blair popped into my head and I love the myth of Persephone and Hades, I think Chuck and Blair accurately personify them in some ways. I guess this would take place right after their wedding, before she gets pregnant with Henry.
I've put in most of the lines from the poem (bold and italic text) in between sections, aside from the stanza at the beginning of the fic (which is the first stanza of the poem) and the last three lines at the end (which is the last stanza of the poem) the stanzas are not in order as they appear in the poem and some lines were cut and replaced with others from different stanzas because I felt they fit more with the section of the fic it precedes. Enjoy!
I asked him for it.
For the blood, for the rust,
for the sin.
She met his gaze; he came up behind her in the full length mirror where she was assessing herself in a lavender silk chemise. His suit jacket and bow tie had disappeared, the dress shirt he wore matched her nightwear. Brushing her hair to her other shoulder, he dragged his finger gently across the bare skin of her upper back; slid his hands down her sides to her hips, then dipped his head to the crook of her neck. He bit the spot gently, gaining a light gasp from her lips and he smiled against the flesh.
He pressed his hunger for her into her back, pulling her flush against him; she hummed in delight before spinning in his arms to face him and pushed her hips up to grind it. Even through her slip and his perfectly tailored pants, the fire was clearly ignited. The feel of their need for each other was deliciously dangerous; it could snap the world in two.
I wanted pomegranates-
I wanted darkness,
I wanted him.
She pulled his face down to crash their lips together. They always got lost in kisses, both fighting to dominate. He won eventually, his tongue slipping past her teeth when she gasped from him pushing up the hem of the chemise and squeezing her hips. She wore no underwear and he groaned into her mouth, thinking he was a fool for believing it was utterly impossible to not get any more aroused by her than he already was.
No one understood them; the magnetism, the inevitability, the power between them. He was a Dark King and she was a Goddess of Spring, of Life. They were totally opposite, yet completely matched in heart. People just assumed he captured her like he had so many others. No one understood that she caught him; that with her, he was different.
I grabbed my king and ran away
to a land of death,
where I reigned and people whispered
that I had been dragged.
Still tangled, they made their way to the bed. The backs of her legs hit the edge and she fell, locking her hands at the nape of his neck to bring him with her. Her chemise was removed with a rip and she sat up, pushing his shoulders.
"Chuck," she tried to scold but was breathless, "that was Agent Provocateur."
"I'll buy you as many more as you want," he huffed, leaning down to kiss the tops of her cupped breasts in his hands and trailing down to her peaked nipples.
She fell back again hissing, "Don't make expensive promises with my nipple in your mouth, Bass."
He sucked the left one in retribution and she moaned, arching a bit.
"I'll keep it," he swore against her skin as he dragged his lips across to her right one. Then he was moving down her body and his knees hit the floor, leaving a wet line from the dip between her breasts to her sternum, to the plane of her belly, to either hip.
Out of an entire
kingdom
he kneels only to me,
calls me Queen, calls me Mercy.
Using her elbows to rest on, she propped up to watch him. Her eyes involuntarily closed for a moment as he bit the inside of her thigh, then sucked the spot lightly. He repeated the action to her other side. She was glistening for him and he couldn't help himself from licking his lips, which made her groan; his appetite for her always stirred that coil in her pelvis.
He swiped a finger up between her folds first, brushing the little bundle nested there and she bucked forward instinctively. Using one hand to press her down, he used the other to slip two fingers inside her. Her arms collapsed and she could no longer see him as he curled his fingers in her; her back bent up off the bed when he found that spot in seconds, rubbing little circles.
She almost screamed when he leaned forward and sucked her clit into his mouth. The work of his fingers and his tongue together was all too much; too suddenly she fell apart and flooded his parched mouth, quenching his thirst for her.
Know that the bed is warm and our hearts are
cold,
know never have I been better
than when I am here.
He came up and took her mouth again; tasting her essence on his lips while he slid an arm around her waist and lifted her up to bring her with him to the head of the bed without breaking their kiss. She sank down into the pillows and plush duvet, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. He moved to make work of his pants; they were gone before she had fumbled half way down his torso. She yanked it open the rest of the way, a button or two was heard bouncing to the floor while she rolled the material back off his shoulders.
"Blair," he snapped, shaking it off the rest of the way, "that was Armani."
"I'll buy you as many more as you want," she mocked.
He growled, grabbing her wrists in one of his large hands and pinned them above her head. A beat later he slammed into her, faltering only for a minute to marvel at just how good she felt. It never ceased to amaze him. Her deep moan grounded him again and he kept pace, knowing just the right way to roll his hips to have her gasping for breath all while screaming his name like a summoning.
I'll tell you I've changed. I'll tell you,
the red on my lips isn't wine.
She was wound up again, holding on so she could fall apart the same time he did. It wouldn't be long, they both knew. They always started off their nights like this; tearing at each other after hours of taunting and teasing from across the room before taking the time to enjoy their unions. He pushed on and she felt his heart beat inside her while she pulsed around him. The hand holding her wrists was cutting off circulation while his other was digging his fingers into her hip, purpling her supple flesh and he silently promised to nurse the bruises with kisses later.
Three more thrusts and they were coming undone; together like always. He roared, sending a thrill through her already shaking body because nothing was as raw and feral as he was when he reached release. Dropping his grips of her, he rolled to his back beside her. She was flushed and her chest heaving; whole being visibly coming down from the place he never fails to take her. He watched her carefully, absentmindedly tracing circles on the shoulder he could reach and she turned her head to grin at him.
Mama, Mama, I hope you get this...
Do not send flowers,
we'll throw them in the river.
"Flowers are for the dead"
She moved to lay her head on his chest; he pulled her as close as he could into his side, as if trying to make his flesh conjoin with hers.
"I don't want to go to Paris," she confessed, running her fingers through the hair on his chest.
He smiled down at her. "Then don't go. Stay here with me."
"I wish I could, but my mother needs me."
"She's been running that business for years, she can survive one show in Paris without you. Call her and tell her," he moved his head down to kiss her neck at his pause, "that you have more pressing matters here in New York."
At that, he rolled a bit and she could feel him hardening against her leg.
"You are incorrigible, Bass."
"Only when it comes to you and us not leaving this bed. And besides, I think I owe you a little shopping trip?"
She laughed and he jumped to swallow it, pushing them both down into the bed again.
If the world could end just to leave the two of them right there in their own sacred place, they'd burn everything outside to the ground. He was a Dark King and she a Goddess of Life; he offered her his hand, his heart, and half his kingdom and she took it willingly for love.
I didn't want the pearls other girls talked about
or the fine marble of palaces...
I'll come back when he bores me,
but Mama,
not today.
