"Tis now the very witching time of night
When church yards yawn, and hell itself
breahes out
Contagion to this world."
Hamlet- Shakespeare
Her fingers sweep across his jaw and rest at his chin, tilting it downwards so that their lips might meet. He cannot draw back because he's transfixed by the expression her face. It is completely unusual to perceive anything but utter insanity on Georgina Sparks countenance and yet he could almost swear that he sees the glimpse of a kindred soul. The only person as lost as he is.
Granted none of the UES kids have had the happiest of childhoods but they each had their anchors, something that held their world in place. He and Georgie have no center and their two disordered universes crash spectacularily when they kiss. Her mouth is soft and pouty and Chuck is right she does taste of berries.
She is such a contrast to needy Blair, ditzy Serena, complicated Vanessa and over zealous Jenny that he can't help the relief flooding through him. Just like it feels when he can breathe again she's stealing his breath and replacing it with her own. His hands are running over her translucent skin as of their own accord and she's dragging him away.
They're out in the open and the cold crisp breeze is mussing their hair. Her dress sashays behind her as she climbs into the carriage. A chuckle is fizzing within him like old champagne as he mounts up after her. It's ridiculously romantic to be driving through New York at midnight in a chaise and four with Georgina Sparks no less.
Kissing her is exhilarating and he senses she has the upper hand. She is the more experienced of the two and its exciting for both of them. She won't bother to rein in all the pent up violent passion that she feels because as far as she's concerned if the Archibald kid wants to fuck Whoregina he better step up his game. And if its Chuck's skilled fingers she misses than the wiry strength in Nate's muscular arms more than makes up for it.
The carriage is bowling through the streets, past lampposts and sky scrapers and the distinct flavour of Scotch at the back of her tongue warns him that this is not her first lip lock of the night. He convinces himself that he is not jealous. The wind whips their faces and their clutching embrace morphs into an artistically agressive expression of all that is wrong in the world. And they both have horror stories pouring into each others mouths. He sighs when they screech to a halt and they fall apart. Its only when they finally reach her bedroom that he's completely blown away.
The long row of buttons down her back are undone and she is rising from the frothy gown like a mermaid from the waves. He cannot believe that he has never realized how pretty she is. Mad, certainly but pretty none the less.
There is black lace under the white but he resists the temptation to rip it off. He's careful and she's not sure what to make of it. The tables are turned as he creeps towards her, hands around her tiny waist; holding her close. He tells himself that he is not trying to recreate his one and only night with Blair but the lump at the back of his throat makes him wonder if that was the only time he ever had sex that was meaningful and romantic. It was always going to be hard to top that- making love to the girl he always thought he was going to marry, but he's never really thought about it before. It occurs to him then that this entire encounter with Georgina has been wordless and words he's learnt carry meaning. But he doesnt know what words to speak and all of a sudden he's lost in a drunken reverie of what exactly he's doing and who with.
Georgina's little white teeth sink into his shoulder, putting an end to all coherency of thought and he lets out a cry. The stale laughter, bitter and rich soon follows. He has after all been holding it in all night- ever since Chuck and Blairs little performance actually because it made him feel like he's always been blind. Her own husky giggle bubbles forth to meet his. Her eyes are glinting as she flips them over and straddles him, wicked cackle dying as the mood changes. Her presence is intoxicating- he realizes he hasnt touched a drink all night so the numbness of his mind can only be attributed to dizzying qualities of her mouth.
Something about the moonlight dappled over her pale skin and the feeling of lethargic pleasure that seeps into his bones ensures that this night will be unforgettable. She is poison but it's already running through his veins from the blood on his broken lip. She's still psychotic but now he is too- the golden boy corrupted by the blackest sheep there ever was.
A homeless Prince Charming and his mad beautiful heiress screw like bunnies till the wee hours of night and they both know that meaningless as this may seem; nothing will ever be the same again.