A/N: I wrote this during the Louis hysteria which I have since gotten somewhat over.
Summary: "I'll be weak if you want. I'll be mature if you ask," Chuck said. "But I'm starting to think he didn't make you as happy as you claimed."
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Inspiration from various sources, most of which, of course, is Gossip Girl. Chuck and Blair. Thanks to comewhatmay.x, as always.
It was cold. It was no longer winter, with frigid stares and icy interiors, but there was a definite chill. But at the opening of the new hotel, Serena felt the heat. And from the open stares of the corporate weasels, she knew she wasn't the only one judging.
For the first time since Serena could remember, they weren't staring at her.
"Dressed to kill."
It came out more like a question, but Blair's smirk was a confirmation to everything. For the first time it was Serena who wanted to protect the prey to Blair's predator. Not the other way around. Blair had been strong for a long time.
And she was ready.
"Blair," Serena said as her best friend placed her glass daintily on the bar counter with a delicate clink.
"You always were on his side," Blair mused, without any sort of venom tracing her voice.
"I wasn't," Serena said. "I was on yours. You were the one who was always on his side."
"Including tonight?"
"I have a feeling that you're more out for blood tonight than anything else," Serena said.
"Not blood," Blair said sweetly. "Just victory."
Serena wished that skirt wasn't so short. But even so, everyone knew the Devil's kryptonite.
And the Devil had been staring the moment she had entered.
(I like to be the one doing the entering.)
"Who is she?"
"Do you care?"
"You did."
Chuck didn't like it. The dress, her face, her fucking heart he hated for still beating for him.
But if he was fooling himself, he wouldn't.
Because he fucking loved all of it. He just hated himself because he told her he didn't anymore. He wouldn't allow himself to any longer.
"Didn't you, Chuck?"
He hated it. He hated how he loved the way her mouth clucked that word around like it was another and he hated how she was backing away from him.
"Don't do this."
But he was smiling and smirking like he only did for her.
"Do what?"
She was still backing away from him and he knew it was her plan all along. She had him on a string and he had no choice but to let her lead him wherever she damn well pleased.
He let his Queen do whatever she wanted with him.
"Chuck?"
She definitely knew what saying his name did to him. He had asked her to do it enough times.
"Blair," he countered.
He liked that smile on her lips.
She always led him into secluded rooms.
(I want to talk.)
(I prefer to talk after.)
"Don't do this to me," he said.
It was a bathroom and his girl did kink like no one else.
"Because of your girlfriend?"
The bathroom door clicked behind them.
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Just a fuck, then?"
"Just a good body," Chuck said. "Like yours. But less."
She was thrown off her game and he liked that he could do that better than anyone.
"Because you'll always love me?" Blair asked slickly.
It wasn't right. None of this was. But he was her dog and he would do anything.
"That's what you said, wasn't it?" Blair asked. "You said that you'd always love me."
"I was trying to do the mature thing."
"You are very mature."
He couldn't tell if she was mocking or teasing or something on the edge of innuendo, but he would take it all. Just to hear her talk to him that way again.
"Am I?" Chuck asked. "We're in a bathroom."
"There's a double-edged sword to being mature," Blair said. "Like that girl out there. Like me, but less. You don't want to cheat on her. You may be a lecher, but you're not a cheater."
"And we're not in a committed relationship," Chuck said. "Besides, that only applied to you."
"What did?"
"Maturity."
"Are you still mature now that I don't have a ring on my finger?"
"What do you want me to say?"
(Say what? I'll say anything.)
"The right thing."
"I never stopped loving you."
"That wasn't what I asked."
"I let you go for him," Chuck said. "But that was the only allowance I was willing to make. I thought you were going to marry him. You didn't."
"What are you saying?"
"I'll be weak if you want. I'll be mature if you ask," Chuck said. "But I'm starting to think he didn't make you as happy as you claimed."
"He made me happy," Blair acquiesced. "Just not fulfilled."
"How much did he fill you?"
And there was that sneer that she loved.
"Do you want to make me happy?"
His sneer fell away and he knew maturity was not for show. They had changed and moved on, but here they were.
Meant to be.
Like it always had been.
"More than anything."
"How happy?"
It was taunting and it was relentless and he hated her for it.
He loved her.
Her breath was tantalizing and sweet and she was right.
It had taken all her strength to pull away from him.
He was never as strong as her.
"Are you willing to make me happier than is conceivably possible?"
"Just don't hide from me."
"And that girl?"
"She certainly doesn't get down for me like you do."
Her hands were hard against his chest. His breath cut out as his back hit the wall. But then it was taken by something not nearly as vengeful as her lips sought his. His shirt was out of his pants, buttons flying across the room and he smiled with relief into her mouth.
He knew why that skirt was so short.
He pushed her across the counter, legs hiked wherever he so pleased, and he didn't care that the door was unlocked and forgotten.
"You know how I know this is right?"
He missed her neck.
"Yes."
"Because I don't feel guilty."
"I'll never feel guilty with you again," he promised.
Her legs were pale, locked across his back, under his shirt and he didn't hear the door.
All he knew were Blair's nails digging into his scalp.
He didn't need to see to know the victorious dark eyes of his love were glaring at the surprised whore who had been hanging over him the entire night.