things yet to come

gossip girl fic

2008-04-23T16:34:57Z

Title: 5 lies that Chuck Bass has told, and that Nate Archibald has believed
Pairing: Chuck/Nate
Rating: PG-13
Summary: More pre-slash than slash, I suppose. A look at friendship, and at being Chuck Bass. Set after the events of 'the Blair Bitch Project'. Chuck is arrogant, and cruel, and sometimes girls cry and ask him 'how can you live with yourself?' or 'how can you sleep at night?' and he answers, respectively, 'easily' and 'I don't get much sleep with girls like you around anyway', topped off with a lascivious wink and a brief, flashing grin.

1. 'I care about three things, Nathaniel: money, the pleasures money brings me, and you.'

No, no, see: Chuck Bass really cares about not getting caught out. About Nate not going back to Blair. About his life not becoming any more complicated than it already is (he tried to screw his soon-to-be-stepsister, after all, you can't get much more heinous than that). These are Chuck's priorities.

In truth, he cares about a lot more than three things, and Nate's wellbeing is far lower down that list than Chuck would have Nate believe. His Dad's approval is up there, sure; and he cares about girls (well, sex-with-girls if he's honest, which he rarely is); there's his reputation as well, which he has to uphold; attaining the unattainable (Serena, Blair, little Jenny); playing games with anyone who takes his fancy; and, finally, there's Nate.

It's not that Chuck is heartless where Nate is concerned, not that he doesn't like Nate. It's more that he never has to care about Nate, really. Nate is such a non-entity most of the time. He never complains about things, just mooches around, looking like he has his own personal raincloud following him. He whines about his mom being a bitch every now and then, but who doesn't? Chuck's certain he'd complain a whole lot more if he had that ball-breaker for a mom. Nate is very little work as a friend; Nate is the perfect sidekick. Not as successful with the ladies as Chuck is, or as smart, or as lucky: a fantastic all-rounder in the friend stakes, Chuck thinks. Nate has a clearly defined role in their friendship, which he performs with ease: he 'hmm's with disapproval at Chuck's more outrageous antics, is there to pour cold water on some of Chuck's more disgusting plans, but mostly he's there to snigger snidely at Chuck's witticisms, to play basketball with him, and to act as a cover for him.

Chuck can get away with far more with someone as suitable, rich and handsome as Nate around. He's like the teflon man - nothing sticks to him. His Dad's practically banged up - which Chuck actually finds amusing, in his heart of hearts - he fucked Serena Van der Woodsen whilst still playing the faithful boyfriend to her best friend, and he can't make his mind up which one of them he wants, yet no one bats an eyelid. Maybe it's because he's an honest liar, Chuck thinks. He actually believes what he says. He actually believes that he's doing the right thing. Even when it's patently obvious that he isn't.

No one with half a brain would believe that being friends with Chuck Bass is the 'right thing' to do after all.

Much less to believe that he cares about you.

2. 'I will always have your back.'

Chuck watches Nate's back, sure. Watches himself plunge the knife in, twist it around and pull it out, leaving Nate carrying on as normal, almost unaware that he's bleeding until little J tells him that, ooh, just maybe, Chuck Bass isn't much of a 'best friend' and that, hmm, possibly, he should ask his girlfriend why she smells of Chuck Bass's aftershave (CK's Euphoria, though he gets the same effect from smelling money).

Chuck has watched Nate's back as Nate walks away from the opportunity of Dartmouth, from marrying Blair; into Serena's arms, then back into Blair's waiting arms. He has not passed judgment on these decisions. Not really offered any advice at all, aside from counselling Nate against returning to Blair, pretending that it was because he wanted Nate to stop being his Dad's lapdog and not because he was enjoying having sex with Blair far, far too much to stop. Or to let things get even more complicated than they were already. Best-friend fucking the ex is much easier to justify than fucking the current girlfriend. Plus, knowing that he was stopping Nate doing something that he was doing (or 'someone whom he was doing') gave him more cheap thrills than stealing his Dad's home movies collection. The dirty kind. Featuring Lily Van Der Woodsen who, Chuck thinks, actually looks quite a lot like her daughter. Still hot, anyway, well-preserved considering her age.

Perhaps it is more true to claim that Chuck has Nate's back in a possessive way. It is his back to stab: no one else's. He will protect Nate from people who seek to knock him down, even whilst he enjoys the power to hurt Nate more than anyone else can. He will stop anyone else from doing this, so that he can claim that privilege for himself.

3. 'I am mad, bad, and dangerous to know.'

Okay, so it's more a half-lie, or a one-third lie. He is dangerous to know (well, more 'irritating' or 'troublesome' to know, but Chuck enjoys posturing, after all) and he is definitely, certainly, bad. But, mad? Not so much. Chuck likes to pretend sometimes, especially to Nate, that it is his troubled upbringing that causes him to behave like this. That he is 'acting out' because of his father's crazy love-life, or the responsibilities that his money and position in society gives him (what responsibilities? To screw around and get away with it?). In reality he is not 'acting' out or acting anything at all, for that matter. He is being himself. Chuck is arrogant, and cruel, and sometimes girls cry and ask him 'how can you live with yourself?' or 'how can you sleep at night?' and he answers, respectively, 'easily' and 'I don't get much sleep with girls like you around anyway', topped off with a lascivious wink and a brief, flashing grin.

Nate always says that Chuck is a nice person, deep down, whenever anyone badmouths him. 'He's just got a lot of problems,' Nate says, and people believe him, because people are stupid. Chuck knows that Nate defends him, defends his actions, and that's part of the reason he spends so much time with him. A guy like Chuck needs a guy like Nate to legitimise him. 'Nate's such a great guy!' girls squeal, 'if he likes Chuck so much there must be something good about him.' Or, 'Nate says that Chuck's had a really traumatic childhood,' complete with meaningful eyebrow movements. Chuck loves it - it gives him a get-out-of-jail-free card that he uses as much as he possibly can.

Chuck loves his life. He loves waking up in the morning and discovering who he's next to (one girl, two girls, three girls... more?); seeing Nate uncomfortable on the couch; being driven to school; irritating teachers and walking the line between honour-roll and expulsion with the help of his dad's money and connections. 'Mad' implies unconsciousness - decisions not made rationally, and Chuck does not do those. Well, except for Blair, he reflects ruefully. She was an irrational decision and one that he is paying for now, having lost Nate's friendship. He'll get it back though: he's sure of that. Nate can't stay away for too long. And, after all, who else does he have to turn to? Who else knows his secrets as well as Chuck does?

4. 'I will never tell.'

Chuck knows secrets about Nate. He knows, hmm, let's see: one-two-three-four... five secrets about Nathaniel, the golden-boy, Archibald. Okay, so, first one: Nate wet his pants when he was ten years old and they were away at Summer camp. Chuck switched the tell-tale sheet with another boy's in their cabin. Some fat, ugly kid who smelt funny. No one liked him anyway so it didn't really matter. Chuck told Blair that story, when she was curled up in his arms, head pillowed on his chest. She laughed so much that she snorted, and Chuck felt guilty but powerful and cruel and hilarious all at the same time. He told her the next two secrets as well: that Nate still has a teddy bear (called 'Blair-bear', though he left that bit out as it changes it from 'pathetic' to 'sweet') and that Nate's mom walked in on Nate jerking off over National Geographic once. Nate's mom slapped him and told him he was disgusting, though Chuck leaves that part out too, as it ruins a perfectly good story. No one wants to feel sorry for the person that they're laughing at, after all. No one wants to feel sorry for the person whose secrets they're telling.

Secret four he did not tell, but then, he didn't have to. If Nate hadn't been prompted by Serena's return to 'fess up about the hot sex they had had then Chuck probably would have broken the news to Blair. It would have been a way to sweeten her up, ruin her and Nate, to lure her into his bed. Although, he's not entirely sure he'd have wanted her like that. It was much easier to play it like an accident: that she ran to him, not the other way around. Another lie he will tell, if necessary, to get Nate back on his side.

Chuck has not told secret number five: not yet, at least. Maybe he will some day, but it's not really funny enough to get him anything, just... sad, he supposes. It makes him feel oddly protective of Nate, in a way he doesn't know how to put into words.

Nate Archibald had this friend, once. He wasn't a friend from school, or summer camp, or a hot girl's brother or anything normal like that. He was just... this kid, average looking, rich, and Nate's dad was trying to broker some ridiculously important deal with his dad. What was his name? Jonah. Yeah, Jonah. So Nate's dad does his whole 'big dog' routine where Nate feels like a stupid kid and he has to become BFF with Jonah, even though he doesn't like him that much. And suddenly, Jonah's there all the time. Nate stops sleeping on Chuck's couch and starts sleeping at Jonah's and then one morning Chuck gets this knock on his door - it's like 4am - and he has to kick the new maid he's been screwing out of his bed because Nate's standing there... crying of all things.

Basically, turns out Jonah has this massive hard-on for Nate and keeps trying it on, and Nate's dad told him to stop being a pussy and that he needs this deal, and Jonah had a lot of sway over his dad and blah blah blah. So Jonah invites him to a sleepover and Nate only goes because he thinks there's going to be other guys (and girls) there but it's just him and Jonah, and they get horribly, disgustingly drunk and Jonah kisses him. Nate just remembers his dad's words and lets him and then he goes further and further and then his hand is down Nate's trousers, and Nate doesn't want to do this any more... So he gives Jonah a black-eye and leaves, and has nowhere else to go.

He spends the next few hours vomiting copiously in Chuck's toilet and Chuck lets him sleep in his bed for once, and they wake up spooning but pretend it never happened. Chuck supposes that that's secret number six, then. Chuck doubts he'll be telling anyone that one any time soon.

5. 'I love you.'

A word to the wise: if a Bass ever tells you that they love you then run, run fast. They must have some reason behind it, some plot, or some plan. 'I love you' Bass style? Oh, it comes with strings attached.

Chuck has told Nate that he loves him twice in his entire life. The first time was after the Jonah incident and Nate was asleep at the time so it probably didn't count. Chuck doesn't know why he even said it. Nate hardly looked great. Maybe it was how young he looked - sixteen, but he seemed about six - maybe it was because he seemed so vulnerable. Maybe it was because he'd just punched someone and Chuck thought that was kinda cool. Still, Chuck said it, but no harm done. Nate was asleep: it doesn't count.

The second time is more deliberate. The whole ChuckandBlair thing has just blown up and Nate has gone off the rails for once. Typical. Nice as pie for years and years then all of a sudden... snap. It wasn't even like they were together any more, anyway. Chuck would never have fucked her if she'd still been officially going out with Nate. Well, maybe he wouldn't have. Maybe.

So, Nate's dodging his phonecalls and Chuck has to sink to the depths of tormenting Serena by training Eric in his likeness. Making him into a mini-me, but with worse hair. Chuck doesn't have many friends, all things told. People respect him, or disrespect him but never in public, and girls throw themselves at him. He's never short on party guests but... friends? People who actually seem to like him? Well, Nate's pretty much the only one. And, well, Chuck likes having him sleeping on the couch when he wakes up in bed with another pretty girl: it makes him feel superior. He likes having someone to compete against (even if Nate's unaware that it's a competition) and, he supposes, he likes Nate, quite a lot. I mean, he doesn't love him, not really, but if he was going to be stranded on a desert island or something, and only has one choice of person to take with him it would probably be Nate. As long as there were hot girls on the island. And his cell still worked, obviously.

So he makes a bee-line for Nate at school, back after the holidays, and despite being shrugged off and threatened with physical violence he persuades Nate to just... have lunch with him. Somewhere nice, so they can talk it over. So Chuck can say sorry which Basses never do, and Nate should know that better than most. But Nate buys it and they go to one of Chuck's dad's hotels.

'The whole Blair thing...' Chuck exhales noisily, rolling his eyes, 'it was a stupid, stupid mistake. I never meant for it to happen, and it was only that one time,' he hopes Jenny didn't give everything away, 'and I just can't bear to lose you, Nate. You're all I've got.'

Nate's mouth is twisting, he's biting his lips and Chuck could almost swear that those blue eyes are about to fill up with tears. 'I just don't know if I can ever trust you again, Chuck.'

'Sure you can! Think of... think of all the secrets I've kept for you,' Chuck's tone is wheedling but it's a whisper of a threat at the same time.

Nate swallows, looks down at his lunch, pushes his ravioli around his plate. His voice, when it emerges, is almost a whisper, 'I have missed you, but... what you did... it was unforgivable.'

'It'll take time, I know that Nate, but I promise never to do anything so hurtful, ever again,' Basses don't keep their promises either, another thing Nate should know. 'Please,' a whole world of regret and sorrow in that one small word. 'I know you don't hate me anymore. You're too nice to hate anyone for long! I, I need you. You keep me together.'

Nate starts to protest but Chuck perseveres, holding up an imperious hand, 'I fucking love you, Nate. You know that.'

And like that all the fight is gone from Nate. He smiles, and it's sad but sweet at the same time. 'You love me?'

'Of course I do.' Chuck almost adds 'like a brother' but is relieved he didn't when he feels Nate's hand under the table, his thumb shyly stroking Chuck's fingers.

'I love you too,' Nate says, and rests his forehead on Chuck's. Chuck can only hope that everyone in the restaurant can be bought off. 'I always have,' Nate smiles, and squeezes his hand beneath the table.

Make that secret number seven, Chuck thinks, and make that just another lie Nate's bought.

--end

Fic: Reflections

2008-04-22T16:26:05Z

Title: Reflections
Author: pickitup
Pairing: Chuck/Nate
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2,539
Summary: He lets himself into Nate's room without knocking and regrets it the minute he does: there is a girl only wearing panties sprawled in Nate's bed and Nate is nowhere to be seen. The girl - blonde, leggy, disposable - eyeballs him angrily. 'Ever heard of knocking, Bass?' She hisses.

Chuck is pretending to have turned over a new leaf.

He is keeping sarcastic comments to a minimum; he has only spied on Serena in the shower four times; he has started complimenting people around him, getting a kick out of how unsure they are when he says anything pleasant.

He has not spoken to Nate in six days.

He has written (and ripped up) a letter (too faggy) and emailed him twice (short but to the point) and he has had such vigorous sex with one of the maids that she actually dared to call in sick today, to avoid his acrobatics.

He has cut Blair off completely. She has lost any attraction she once had now that Nate has dumped her. Plus he blames her entirely for the whole sordid affair. 'She seduced me,' he has repeatedly practiced saying, in front of the mirror, perfecting his air of innocence and even letting his lower lip tremble a little bit as he runs his hand through his hair in a pretence of distraction and heartbreak. 'I never wanted it to happen Nate but... she threw herself at me. She wanted to hurt you, I see that now, and I just wasn't strong enough to stop her.' He is hopeful that he will get a chance to act this monologue-of-sorrow out for Nate, even confident, that he can twist events to suit him. He has turned his desire for Blair into momentary madness; his betrayal of Nate into a spur-of-the-moment accident. He does not care to think on it further than that.

On the seventh day of no contact, he begins to get twitchy. His text messages have gone ignored, and worst of all, the Rolex (and eighth of delightful weed) he sent round yesterday has been returned unopened. Desperate times, he counsels himself, lead to desperate measures. He pours a tot of whisky and downs it, savouring the burning trail all the way down to his stomach. Chuck Bass does not apologise: he manipulates and twists until he comes out smelling of roses and the other person finds themself entirely wrong-footed and entirely probably being the one to say 'sorry'. If that doesn't work, throwing money at the problem will. Still, it might be worth putting in a little bit of face-to-face time, he supposes, to try and smooth things over with Nate.

*

Nate's mother lets him in with a smile, gratefully accepting the huge bunch of lilies he has bought her.

'Mrs Archibald,' he inclines his head gravely. 'You grow more lovely each time I see you.'

'Oh Chuck, you always were a charmer.' She has lines on her forehead Chuck has never noticed before. Perhaps she is late for botox, he wonders? 'Nate's in his room. He could probably do with some company - he's been cooped up here for the past week.'

'Thank you, I'll go find him,' he gives her a practiced, smooth smile, that slides off his face as he turns away, leaving no trace behind it.

He lets himself into Nate's room without knocking and regrets it the minute he does: there is a girl only wearing panties sprawled in Nate's bed and Nate is nowhere to be seen. The girl - blonde, leggy, disposable - eyeballs him angrily. 'Ever heard of knocking, Bass?' She hisses.

'Ever heard of class?' He snaps back. 'Though I guess not with that cheap lingerie on. Cover yourself up, you whore, I'm not here to see you.'

She stands up angrily and starts pulling her clothes on. 'I am not a whore. I, unlike you, have never slept with my best friend's girlfriend.'

'Probably because you're heterosexual, I imagine. I'm sure you've slept with your best friend's boyfriend before, on the other hand.'

'Oh, you get what I mean!' She gathers up the remainder of her stuff, too unsettled to stay and lace up her brown Chloe boots. Last season, Chuck notes, as he sits gingerly on the bed, avoiding any wet patches. She slams the door behind her as she flounces out, and Chuck reflects carefully on his next move. So, Nate, the pure, the sweet, the innocent, is fucking two-a-penny Serena knock-offs? Interesting turn up for the books.

He hears the water turn off and quickly schools his face into what he thinks is an appropriate expression: a wry smile, that doesn't meet his eyes must equate to 'I'm sorry I took your girlfriend's virginity. Let's be friends again'. Mustn't it?

Nate's shoulders immediately tense when he sees Chuck sat on his bed. 'What the hell do you want?' He asks, but his words sound exhausted, tired rather than angry. 'And what happened to Marina?'

Chuck can't help himself. 'Marina? Oh you've got to be kidding me.'

'What?' Snaps Nate. 'Is that all you've come here to do? Make fun of me some more? As if fucking Blair wasn't enough.'

Chuck sighs, willing the remnants of laughter down, down into his stomach. 'I came to talk about what happened. We've been best friends for years! We're like brothers-'

'Were like brothers,' Nate interjects. 'Not any longer. You saw to that when you screwed Blair in the back of your limo.'

'I want to get things back to how they were, Nate. I'll do whatever you want. I need you in my life, and you need me.'

'I don't need you, Chuck, not anymore,' Nate sounds stronger, more certain, than he has in years, Chuck thinks, 'I don't need someone around who's going to fuck me over, someone who I'll have to keep an eye on! I need someone who'll have my back, who'll watch out for me: especially now, with all that's going on with Dad. You're too untrustworthy.' Nate crosses his arms aggressively, perfectly confident, as if he's unaware that he's only wearing a towel.

'It was a mistake, Nate. What can I say: I'm only human,' Chuck shrugs. 'She threw herself at me, and I was drunk. I shouldn't have done it: 'bros before hos', I know that-'

'Shut up Chuck, or I'll give you a split lip.'

'Wha-' Chuck starts to protest but Nate cuts in. 'I mean it. No excuses.'

The fight goes out of Chuck and he murmurs, 'I'm sorry.'

'What? I didn't hear that?' Nate looks smug, a smile twisting his lips even while his eyes look impenetrable and sad.

Chuck lifts his head, annoyed at Nate for not sticking to the script and letting him escape with a little bit of dignity. 'I said I'm sorry!' Chuck snaps. 'I shouldn't have done what I did, we both know that, alright! But... I can't change it now. If I could, trust me, I would.' They both know he wouldn't change a thing.

Nate laughs, snidely at first, then louder until Chuck can't stand it any more, 'What the hell are you laughing at?' Chuck feels embarrassed and wrong-footed, he doesn't get the joke and he doesn't like this new Nate, making fun of him. That is not Nate's role. That is not who Nate is. Was. Whatever.

Nate snorts. 'That was the worst apology I've ever heard. I've never known someone sound so remorseless even whilst they say 'sorry'.'

'I guess I don't have much practice at it,' Chuck shoots back. 'You're probably the first person I've ever apologised to, Nate.' His tone turns wheedling. 'Doesn't that tell you something? I apologised to you. I'm a Bass, we don't apologise, we just throw money at the problem until it goes away.' He sighs, runs his hand through his hair in the move he had practiced earlier. 'I just want stuff to go back to the way it was between us.'

'Okay,' Nate shrugs, but something pulses in his cheek and he's biting his lip. 'We'll be friends again, if you just do one small thing for me.'

Chuck gains his smug edge back as Nate agrees so easily, but tempers it, puts his mask back on, pretends to be sad, 'Anything, Nate. Anything for you.'

Nate drops his towel to the floor. 'Suck me,' he says, simply.

'What?' Chuck does not enjoy surprises. Especially not surprises like this. Nate has always been a... sheep in sheep's clothing, and suddenly there's something wolfish about him. Dangerous. Not the kind of guy you'd trust your daughters with. Not any longer, anyway.

'You heard me, Bass,' Nate's glare his remorseless, and Chuck can't quite bear to meet his eyes. 'If you want to become best friends again, I'll let you. I'll even trust you, though don't expect me to ever leave you alone with Blair again. As long as you do one, little thing for me,' Nate grins here and looks down at his penis, 'well, not so little I guess.'

'You can't expect me to...' Chuck is floundering, and Chuck Bass does not flounder. Chuck Bass controls, Chuck Bass manipulates, Chuck Bass smooth-talks any and everyone around him until the world does exactly what he expects it to: exactly what he wants it to. But he can't get a grip on this situation, doesn't know how to play it, which mask to put on. He's left playing Nate (the old Nate at least), stuttering and awkward and unsure in the face of such open sexuality.

'I do expect you to do it,' Nate breaks in. 'I expect you to do it, and to make it good. I've spent the last week fucking anything that moves and you know what? I have come to the conclusion that girls from the Upper East Side can not give good head.' He smiles as he says it, arrogant, as if he's imparting wordly wisdom to some innocent kid, not Chuck Bass. 'I mean, they're great to fuck, yeah, but shit with their mouths. Let's see what your mouth can do. I dare you.' Nate's words are flippant but his tone is harsh, angry. It is offputting and unsettling.

Chuck just stands there, mouth gaping open. His nails are digging in to the palms of his hands. He swallows (his pride) and walks over to Nate, puts his head on one side and smiles at him, more a baring of teeth than anything else. He has to do this, he supposes. He's never been one to turn down a dare after all. In some weird way he wants to do it. Wants to regain the upper hand against this boy who looks like Nate but certainly doesn't act like him. 'Okay, I'll do it. Any other requests?'

'Yeah...' Nate smirks. It's not a happy face. 'I want you to enjoy it, Chuck, though I doubt that should be too difficult for you. I've always had my suspicions that you might,' Nate lowers his voice, 'go both ways, if you know what I mean.'

Chuck shakes his head, 'Whatever,' and pushes Nate to the bed, pushing him flat on his back and climbing on top of him. He starts to lower his head towards Nate's erection when he feels Nate's hands tugging on his shoulders. 'What?' He snaps. 'You wanted me to do it, so I'm fucking doing it Archibald!'

'I want you on your knees, Chuck, that's all,' Nate's smile is wide and disquieting. It's not Nate's typical, sunny, golden-boy smile. It has a malicious edge to it: so sharp that it hurts Chuck to look at it. It reminds Chuck too much of himself.

Part of Chuck wants to walk out of there, just turn on his heel, say 'fuck this' and leave. But Chuck's never been one for the easiest way out (would that kind of boy never apologise? Would that kind of boy fuck his best friend's girlfriend for that matter?) so he stays. Plus, part of him wants to do it, if he's honest. Part of him has wanted to do it for years. Just, on his own terms, not Nate's. He sighs and gets down onto his knees, pumps Nate's dick like he would his own, before wrapping his mouth round the head.

Nate's hands skate down Chuck's head, not gripping, before settling on his shoulders. 'Yeah, that's good Chuck. I like you on your knees. And with your mouth full you can't make any smart-ass remarks. Or sweet-talk my girlfriend away from me.'

Chuck's protests are muffled. He's quite embarrassed by all the wet, sloppy sounds he's making, it hardly seems professional or practised, but Nate seems to be enjoying it, despite his running commentary on Blair, and Chuck. 'Blair hated sucking my dick. She's just too much of a princess, you know? Yeah, I guess you do know now. It was mostly handjobs, and she'd let me feel her up occasionally. We planned to have sex but just never got round to it. I'd have made it beautiful you know. Something every girl wants to remember. Whereas you? She'll be wishing she could forget.'

'I've imagined you doing this before, Chuck. Whenever I watched you fucking those girls whilst I slept here, I couldn't help picturing you with my dick in your mouth. I bet you never thought of that, did you? Bet you thought I was too clean and innocent for any weird fantasies? Well, there you go: I have imagined you on your knees before me more times than I can count. It's a shame it's only happening now... after you screwed my girlfriend.'

'I didn't screw your girlfriend, Nate. You'd broken up with her. I screwed your ex girlfriend which, whilst still reprehensible, is hardly as bad,' Chuck makes one last attempt at turning things around, at regaining some sort of control over this situation, this boy, who is nothing like his best friend. They've only been apart a week but it seems like a whole lot longer in the face of Nate's hard smile, his angry eyes, his deadpan laugh.

Nate frowns, pushes Chuck's mouth back down to his dick. 'I prefer you not talking. You're doing well, though, much better than Serena, or Marina, or Katy, or Sasha, or Casey...'

Chuck stops again, looks up almost angrily, surprised at how let down he feels by Nate, 'How many girls have you fucked this week?'

'Seven,' Nate smirks. 'One for each day. And don't even try and give me a lecture, considering you've fucked most of the girls at Constance, regardless of whether they were legal or not.'

Chuck appreciates the irony of him counselling Nate but can't help himself. Nate's been the one constant in his life for so long, and now he's different. The same old Nate with all the edges chiselled off, he thinks. Maybe this is how other people feel about him he thinks: beautiful and arrogant and aggressive. Hateful. 'Look Nate, it's very flattering that you're trying to be like me, and all, but I think you're better off being yourself. It's hard being Chuck Bass: harder than being Nate Archibald by far.'

Nate laughs derisively. 'Maybe you just don't know me as well as you thought you did, Chuck. I'm good at this, it seems. Maybe I've been wasting my potential all these years: letting you steal the limelight.'

Nate's silent for a while. Only moans permeating the warm, stale air; no barbed comments to wound Chuck or puncture the silence. He comes suddenly and without warning, then flops back onto the bed. 'There's mouthwash in the bathroom. And you can call yourself my best friend again. That is, if you want to deal with the competition of me being like you, now. I don't know, Chuck, maybe you'll have to turn into the old Nate? Sweet and nice and a pussy? We'll need some sort of balance in our friendship. Can't have two Chuck Basses going around together: it just won't work.'

Chuck doesn't answer, just stalks to the bathroom and jerks off frantically, head against the tiles, cool against his fevered head. He feels ashamed, and sordid, and... small. But then Nate's there, whispering 'let me', and his mouth is warm, and wet; soft and forgiving; pliant and comforting. Chuck comes, helplessly, saying 'sorry' over and over again.

Nate just wipes his mouth and there, again, that small, un-Nate-like grin, selfish and glittering. 'I'll see you later. Little Jenny's coming over in an hour and I need to be ready.' His grin is quick and wolfish and Chuck feels sick at what Nate's become. At what he's made Nate become.

His last glimpse of Nate as he leaves is of Nate sprawled lewdly on the bed, wearing a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

It's like looking into a mirror, Chuck thinks, and keeps on walking, unwilling to stare any longer at the boy he used to know.

-- end

gossip girl fic

2008-04-21T20:06:29Z

Fandom: Gossip Girl
Title: Retribution
Author: pickitup
Pairing: Chuck/Nate
Word count: 1,912
Rating: NC-17
Summary: 'Look at me,' Nate orders him, so he does. He stares into Nate's eyes and part of him wants to crawl away somewhere and hide. He feels horribly exposed: like the top layer of his skin has been sloughed away and here he is, naked and raw and ashamed.

Chuck has learned by now to expect the unexpected, but it is still surprising to say the least when Nate turns up at his door, four days after the Blair showdown, having disappeared even off Gossip Girl's radar. Chuck is even more surprised when Nate doesn't say anything: simply pushes Chuck backwards, kicks the door shut behind him, and begins to unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off broad shoulders with no trace of self-consciousness.

'What the hell are you doing?' Chuck's voice is embarrassingly shrill. This did not factor into any of his plans of making up with Nate which consisted of 1) giving him space, 2) sending him expensive presents and 3) blaming everything on Blair.

'What does it look like I'm doing?' Nate's turn now to be smug and self assured, as he insistently tugs Chuck's turtleneck over his head, leaving his perfectly sculpted hair messy, somehow leaving Chuck more vulnerable. Nate laughs as he chucks the turtleneck behind him. 'You look like a fucking Beatles reject, Bass, did you know that? Like the 60s threw up all over you.'

'You dick!' Chuck's voice is still higher than normal, indignation so strong you can almost taste it. 'That shirt cost 600 dollars!'

Nate shrugs, 'Buy a new one. Or, better yet, don't.' His hands go to Chuck's pants and he undoes the buttons one by one in a way which leaves Chuck gasping for air, angry and humiliated, like a fish out of water. Nate tugs them down, and Chuck automatically kicks them off, pulling his socks off with short, jerky movements, unwilling to be caught wearing only boxers and socks, no matter how bizarre the situation is.

Nate turns his attention back to his own clothes: the shirt is crumpled on the floor, soon joined by his ripped jeans (since when did Nate wear jeans with rips in, Chuck wonders?) and socks. Chuck is still just standing there, clad only in his grey Armani boxers (not his nicest pair, if he is honest) and wearing a very awkward facial expression. He's unsure why he's not more outraged, but he just feels confused, and like something that's been coming for a long time has suddenly arrived. Granted, he didn't expect it to be a nearly naked Nate but... still.

'Get on the bed,' Nate orders, dropping his boxers in a way so smooth that Chuck's sure he must have managed it. Chuck averts his eyes coyly from Nate's half-hard dick, feeling sick with excitement and nerves, and unsure what's coming next, but almost certain that it won't be anything that he has a say in. He backs up to the bed, not taking his eyes off Nate who watches him do it. When he feels it behind his knees he sits, suddenly, and not too gracefully if he's honest. Nate smirks at him. 'Now, take your boxers off.'

'What if I don't want to?' Chuck asks, his attempt at mutiny marred by the tremor in his voice.

'What you want doesn't come into this, Chuck. You fucked my girlfriend, remember?'

'I remember,' Chuck mutters. 'But does that really give you the excuse to march in here, strip off and push me around?'

Nate walks - well, stalks if Chuck's honest - and puts his fingers under Chuck's recalcitrant chin, forcing him to meet his eyes, which are skittering around, anxious to look anywhere but there. 'This has been coming for a long time, Bass, and you know it.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' but Chuck is moistening his lips even as he denies it. 'I don't know what the hell you want from me.'

'Yes. you. do.' Nate's words emerge pared down, clipped by gritted teeth, into air which is heavy with unfulfiled promise. 'You know that me and you have had this coming since the first time you fucked a girl in front of me. Since you french kissed the first girl I ever liked in sixth grade. Since I watched you have threesome after foursome with random girls whilst I slept on the couch.' He raises his eyebrows at Chuck who shrugs, before asking, 'Now are you going to take your boxers off or shall I?'

Chuck wriggles them down his hips and kicks them gracelessly to the floor. Nate just stares at him: at his pale, lean body and swelling erection. 'Hmm, mine's bigger,' Nate remarks, before laughing mirthlessly. 'I wonder if Blair noticed.'

Chuck's mouth twists, 'I'm sorry, you know.'

'Whatever,' Nate snaps, climbing on top of Chuck so their dicks are pressed together, his hands on Chuck's shoulders gripping and biting.

Chuck just lies there and takes it, strangely acquiescent. He's going to have bruises tomorrow, he knows, and his cock starts to harden further at the thought.

Nate rests his forehead on Chuck's, stares straight into his eyes and really looks at him. Looks at him like he wants to crawl inside him and possess him from the inside out. 'Do you know what I'm angriest about, Chuck?' Chuck is mute, shakes his head as much as he can with Nate right there. 'It's that you pretended you didn't want me to get back with her for my sake, as if you were protecting me. When it was really because you wanted to carry on fucking her.'

Chuck lets a small, bitten off moan escape as Nate grinds his erection into Chuck's. 'You wanted to fuck my girlfriend. So you could fuck me over. Or maybe it was because you couldn't fuck me. Is that it?' Nate presses harder, his tongue suddenly, unexpectedly, darting out to lick the corner of Chuck's mouth before taking his bottom lip between perfect, white teeth, and biting it gently. 'Did you want to fuck me Chuck? Is that what Blair was all about?'

'I don't know what you're talking about Nate...'

'I think you do, Chuck,' Nate's voice is deceptively calm. 'I think you've always wanted to fuck me. And now's your chance.'

'What?'

'You heard me,' Nate rolls off Chuck, lies next to him, glares at him. 'I want you to fuck me, and I want you to look at me whilst you do it. None of the eyes closed bullshit you pull on those other girls. I want you to know who you're with whilst you do me.'

Something pulses in Chuck's cheek as he stammers out, 'What if I don't want to?'

Nate laughs derisively, hand squeezing Chuck's angry red erection. 'I think you want to. I think you've wanted to for years.'

Chuck doesn't answer, just gets up, squares his shoulders and walks over to the nightstand, pulling out a pot of lube.

'Strawberry. Nice,' Nate's tone is harsh and adult and painful to listen to.

Chuck grabs a condom from under his pillow.

'Oh, you're a smooth operator, Bass. A condom under the pillow? Why, it's inspired.'

'Shut, up,' Chuck sounds almost automated, as he slicks his fingers in the lube, pushing Nate on to the bed with his other hand. Nate pulls his knees up, feet flat on the bed, then lets his legs fall open.

'I thought this would be kind of fitting, Chuck. I mean, my girlfriend's first time is with you, then my first time, with a guy, with you. It's like... full circle, you know?'

Chuck ignores him, and Nate's wry half-smile deserts him as Chuck's fingers find his asshole, sliding gently in. 'Do you know what you're doing, Chuck?'

Chuck smiles, tightly. 'Never done it with a boy before, but the basics are the same, I'm sure.' He carries on, letting one finger then two fingers in, sliding and scissoring until Nate starts to relax. 'You sure you want to go through with this, Nate?'

'Yes!' Nate's voice is angry, at odds with his loose-limbed body and swelling erection. 'I said I wanted to do this, so let's do it.'

Chuck grips Nate's dick by way of answer, rubbing it slowly as he twists his fingers inside Nate's ass. Nate moans and thrusts his hips upwards. 'Fuck me, Chuck. Do what you've wanted to do for years. You can't be the golden boy so you want to screw him, right? Put your dick inside me - show me what you're made of.'

Chuck removes his hand from Nate's dick, wiping the pre-come onto the bedsheets. They'll be changed in the morning anyway: no point being careful. He rips open the condom and rolls it down his dick, pinching the tip. 'Don't be too eager, Nathaniel,' he smirks. 'I want to be safe. I take care of myself. I don't want to catch anything untoward, even if I can't get you pregnant.' ('Unlike Blair' hangs in the air between them and Nate almost snarls, pulling Chuck down and on top of him.)

'Do it now Chuck.'

Chuck won't be rushed: presses the head of his dick against Nate's tight entrance before slowly, oh-so-slowly, easing his way in. 'Relax, relax,' like a mantra, almost as much for himself as it is for Nate as he realises how tense he is. 'Wrap your legs round me,' Chuck orders, and Nate obeys, pulling Chuck deeper inside him, moaning and shuddering. Chuck begins to thrust slowly, gentler than he's ever been before, aware of some strange feeling in his stomach. His chest feels tight. Nate feels tighter. It gets better as they get into it: Nate moaning, Chuck determined to keep the sounds he wants to make bottled up inside him, locked up tight. His dick is rock-hard and Nate feels better than anything has before.

'Does it feel good?' Chuck hates himself for asking.

'Yes,' Nate won't look at him, suddenly turned shy as Chuck strokes his dick. 'Is it like you thought it would be?'

Chuck considers this as he thrusts, looking at Nate's wide eyes, dark circles like bruises under them where he hasn't slept in days. He tries to answer glibly but can't summon the words. He wants to say 'It feels something like I dreamed it would since I was fourteen years old and I watched you feeling Blair up under the stairs at my house. I've wanted to be inside you for so long, and now you hate me, and you want to hurt me, and I've never been on the receiving end of that before. I wanted you to want this as much as I do. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to be you.'

Instead, he says, 'No.'

Nate shrugs, moans and comes over Chuck's hand and their stomachs. 'I hate you,' he says, as his semen spills over Chuck's fist.

'I know,' Chuck agrees, before burying his dick completely in Nate's ass and coming hard.

'Look at me,' Nate orders him, so he does. He stares into Nate's eyes and part of him wants to crawl away somewhere and hide. He feels horribly exposed: like the top layer of his skin has been sloughed away and here he is, naked and raw and ashamed.

He lies on top of Nate for a while, their sweat cooling and their ragged breathing easing. 'I'm sorry,' Chuck mouths against Nate's chest. 'I'm sorry.'

Nate doesn't answer, just pushes Chuck off him, gets up and dresses. It is only when he reaches the door that he pauses, fingers on the doorhandle, looking over his shoulder. 'It was nothing like I imagined either.'

He lets the door slam behind him.

--end

gossip girl fic

2008-04-17T18:42:07Z

Title: History Lessons
Pairing: Chuck/Nate
Rating: R for sexual situations
Notes: Set before Chuck and Blair get it on.
Summary: 5 short pieces about Chuck and Nate's friendship. Sometimes Nate thinks about it: about how intent Chuck looked when he leaned towards him, how his eyes were so focussed, how he unconsciously licked his lips to moisten them, even whilst his mocking smile told Nate that this was all just a game, and that to play along would be dangerous.

1. Loss

How it happened was: Nate met a girl at a party. They talked. They kissed in a corner, hidden from prying, predatory eyes. She did not know that he was Nate Archibald. She had not heard of Blair Waldorf. She did not care about any of that. He took her upstairs to Chuck's room and they fucked on his bed. He was a little unsure at first - his hands skittered all over her, uncertain where to anchor - but he grew in confidence as her moans became more elaborate and messy. He came inside her, and then they kissed. Her dark eyes were heavy and kind as she smiled at him afterwards, her canines a bit too pointed and white to fully relax him, but, still. The thought was there. She slipped her canary yellow dress back on and did up her gold sandals. Her toe-nail polish was chipped, he noticed. It seemed to matter, though he did not know why.

He stayed in the room until she had gone, and straightened his tie, before walking out, straight into Chuck who was lurking in the shadows.

'Alright?' Chuck smirked at him, one eyebrow raised knowingly.

'Oh... yeah, I guess, I met this girl and... sorry, it was your room, I should have asked... We had sex,' he finally blurted out.

'I know,' Chuck rolled his eyes. 'I paid her. Natasha. She's charming isn't she.' He patted Nate on the back and Nate wanted to punch him but just breathed out, slowly, through clenched teeth.

Chuck seemed to know of his anger as he whispered, pointedly, 'Just wanted to make a man out of you.'

2. Blair

The first time Chuck saw Blair he thought that she looked like a cat. Her hair was glossy, her teeth neat and white, and she gave off an air of confidence and authority that impressed even him. When Blair and Nate got together it seemed only natural - like attracts like, after all, and they were both so rich, powerful and beautiful. The only difference was that Blair had an edge that Nate didn't. She was harder where he was soft, spiteful where he was understanding, cynical where he was hopeful. Chuck did not want her at first, but the more entwined their lives became, the more Nate spoke of proposing to her, the longer they waited to have sex... the more Chuck wanted to have her for himself. He would give her credit for her Machiavellian schemes, kisses for her pretty little pouts, spankings when she grew too catty. He could give her what Nate couldn't: someone strong and certain in everything he did, with a backbone of steel rather than that of spaghetti that Nate seemed to have.

But... Blair wouldn't play ball. She loved Nate; she despised Chuck. She wasn't interested in his barbed comments, or the way he let his hand graze the curve of her tits on the pretext of taking her arm, or in the way he pressed his legs against her underneath the table. So, he stopped, gave up, retreated. Finally let his best friend's girlfriend alone.

He didn't take her because he didn't truly want to hurt Nate, he told himself, not because he couldn't. Even though he knew it was a lie.

3. Kisses

Chuck had his first French kiss when he was twelve. He didn't think much of it - too sloppy and wet - but he was determined to master it just as he was determined to master everything else he tried. He kissed everyone he could - no sixth grade game of spin the bottle was safe from his tongue - and whilst most girls 'eww'ed at first, he soon had a reputation as a rather good kisser. Nate did not have to try so hard - he learnt with Blake over the space of three years, and it was sweet and chaste, then long and lingering, then so erotic he wanted to pin her down and have her there.

One time, when they played spin the bottle aged sixteen, old enough to know better, Chuck landed on Nate. Chuck pretended to lean in and Nate shoved him away hard, softening it with a rueful chuckle, until everyone else laughed too.

Sometimes Nate thinks about it: about how intent Chuck looked when he leaned towards him, how his eyes were so focussed, how he unconsciously licked his lips to moisten them, even whilst his mocking smile told Nate that this was all just a game, and that to play along would be dangerous.

Sometimes, when Nate closes his eyes as he comes, he still sees that face: the intensity, the momentary lust. But he doesn't even countenance that outside his bedroom. It would be dangerous to.

4. Blow backs and blow jobs

Nate got his first blow-back from Chuck, of course. He was naive and new to the world of weed and Chuck was more than happy to talk him through it. He showed Nate how to roll a joint, how to blow smoke rings, how to act more stoned than you were so that people would let their guard slip and tell you more than they meant to. He gave Nate his first blow-back, sniggering all the while about how dirty it sounded, theatrically sliding his hand down Nate's thighs until Nate exclaimed and slapped them away. Chuck gave in in the end, cupped his hands round their mouths and blew smoke straight into Nate's mouth. Nate's eyes went all dizzy and unfocussed, then he smiled sleepily. His smile made Chuck want to punch him, or hug him: he didn't know which. So instead he just snapped at him that he was doing it all wrong and the moment was lost; the tension suddenly as heavy as the cloying smoke.

Last time they smoked a joint together was when Nate wanted to break up with Blair, still in love with Serena. Puff after puff, and still he refused to relax, until Chuck cupped his hands round their mouths and blew softly into Nate's mouth. Nate looked startled, then annoyed, which made Chuck persist.

'Lighten up,' he told him. 'Forget all about those stupid little girls and just enjoy this.'

So they did it again, and again, and so what if eventually Chuck's hands slipped and his lips pressed briefly against Nate's? So what if they became closer and closer together, giggling, noses bumping each other's cheeks, stubble grazing and thighs touching? There was no gossip girl there to see them... no Blair or Serena existed in that room. Just them. Friends since they were seven. Just, hanging out, doing boy stuff. Jerking each other off hurriedly, Chuck mouthing the head of Nate's dick, Nate swallowing Chuck's come.

Just boy stuff.

5. Friendship

'Chuck and Nate have a lot of history,' Chuck smirks as he overhears a not-quite-popular girl gossiping about him at school. 'They go, like, way back, and they always have each other's back. I like Nate best, what about you?' Her blonde head cocked on one side, curiously.

'Oh Nate, definitely,' the other gushes, running her hand through long black curls. 'He's just so cute and perfect. Chuck has such a reputation. And, come on,' she says, with all the authority and worldly wisdom of a sixteen year old, 'he's old enough to know better. Fucking around is fine when you're young, but you have to grow up sometimes.'

Chuck doesn't stick around to listen any further, annoyed enough that he elected to lurk long enough to hear that. Stupid Nate. Still, it's true at least that they have a lot of history. They go way back: eleven years of looking out for Nate, catching him when he falls, putting up with him being a wet-blanket on some of Chuck's more debauched adventures. But, it is worth it, he supposes, as he catches sight of Nate in the distance and his guts twist painfully.

Anything that hurts this good has to be.

--end

Gossip girl

2008-04-16T14:53:39Z

Title: A Winning Combination
Author: pickitup
Pairing: Chuck/Nate, mentions of Chuck/Blair, Nate/Blair and Nate/Serena
Rating: R/NC-17
Word count: 1,519
Notes: Set immediately after 'Seventeen Candles'. Chuck has slept with Blair; Nate doesn't know.
Summary: Nate and Chuck don't kiss. Not really. They did once, when they were completely drunk, and Chuck thought it would be funny to spit vodka into Nate's mouth. It was funny, at first, but then it really wasn't as Nate's tongue rubbed against his.

He has never been inside Nate's ass, or had Nate inside his, but oh, he's been caressed by those sweet pouty lips more time than he can count.

He's not gay, of course. The Bass bloodline has seen and hushed up scandals far worse than that but... still. It would not go down well with his father (not as well as Nate goes down, he thinks). And, of course, he likes girls. He likes Blair's high, firm breasts, her little curvy ass and her soft thighs. He likes the way that girls are so wet and warm and welcoming and happy to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

Nate is not so easy. He demands more of Chuck's time and attention than the girls that have filled his bed over the years. He is not willing to give Chuck hour long blowjobs or rub his muscles after a particularly vigorous session; he is unwilling to take part in threesomes; to put lovebeads up his ass; or to try out anything else that Chuck dreams up whenever it takes his fancy. But, for all that, he gives Chuck more pleasure than most. The feel of him shuddering under his tongue is oddly pleasing. Typically, Chuck shows mostly disinterest or boredom in the face of others' enjoyment. If a girl comes during fucking, that's great, but if she's doesn't... well, it's her own business to make sure she does, he doesn't see why he should concentrate on her pleasure rather than his own. Blair was the first who forced him into caring, but even then he finds her sloppy moans and spreadeagled limbs distasteful. Offputting. He likes things to be clinical rather than messy.

With Nate it is different. Nate will not be content to give and give with no return. He calmly informs Chuck of whose turn it is and never hesitates to reap the yield of his tongue's investment.

'I sucked you last time, Chuck, you know that. Do me,' and then his strong, elegant fingers twist in Chuck's collar and push him down, and down.

Chuck finds it strangely thrilling to get down on his knees for Nate. He would never admit it of course, and always grimaces, rolling his eyes, but Nate doesn't even crack a smile. Just tightens his grip, unzips his flies and eases himself into Chuck's mouth with a sigh. Nate never acts like he particularly enjoys it, which is probably what Chuck likes best. It's all too easy with most. 'Oh Chuck, yes, YES, YES!' is sweet and everything but... it's not very real. He doesn't have Nate's approval as easily so he tries and tries, humming and flicking his tongue against the underside of the head of Nate's dick, cupping his balls in one hand, moaning like most girls do when he slips his fingers inside them to find them slippery wet at the mere idea of being screwed by him.

Nate grits his teeth when he comes. Chuck always looks up shyly through his lashes to see some flicker of enjoyment, some particle of praise but, no. Just, jaw set, eyes closed, tensing, tensing...

They don't snuggle afterwards or anything faggy like that. They just lie there, light a joint, blow smoke-rings at the ceiling. They learnt to do that together when they were eleven. Chuck swore that it was a skill that would become useful in later life. Sometimes, if Nate is still hot afterwards, when the weed has kicked in and everything seems easier, he slides down the bed and jerks Chuck off, asking him questions about all the girls he's fucked until he spills himself all over his hand. Then Nate will straddle him and Chuck will tell him impossibly dirty stories until he comes over both of them. He likes stories about threesomes, foursomes, screwing virgins, fucking sisters... anything like that gets him hot. Nate had always been semi-faithful to Blair. A few aberrations here and there but surprisingly sinless considering he's Chuck Bass's best friend. Chuck's depravity makes him horny, even though he pretends to condemn it sometimes.

When Chuck feels cruel he asks Nate questions about Blair or Serena, closing his eyes and moaning so it doesn't seem fake. It makes him harder to do it, but more because of Nate's reaction, the way he stumbles over words and invents stuff to satisfy Chuck rather than because he likes hearing about Serena grinding against Nate, her long, long legs wrapped around his waist as his dick thrust into her. It's all so... vanilla. Add that to the fact that Nate never had sex with Blair - he'd got a few grudging blowjobs, but hardly anything groundbreaking - and it's like the softest of softcore porn to Chuck. It gives him an illicit thrill knowing that he's screwed Blair, even whilst he innocently asks once more about the way she licked the tip of Nate's dick like a little cat, swallowing his come in a most unexpected move. He's been where no man's ever been before, not even Nate, and that's always enough to make him come really fast... something he only does with Nate, because he knows Nate doesn't care and won't tell.

This doesn't happen all the time, of course. Mostly they're just best friends, and he feels affection for Nate, wants to look out for him even though Nate's older than him. Screwing his ex-girlfriend hardly fits into this but Chuck can compartmentalise with the best of them. One part of his mind for Nate. One for Blair. One tiny, disgusting part for images of all three of them, her on her hands and knees whilst they smirk at one another over her. He thinks about that sometimes and his insides twist, and sometimes it makes him feel sick. He cares about them both too much to fuck it up, to disrespect them like that, and yet... it makes him hotter than he cares to admit.

Nate and Chuck don't kiss. Not really. They did once, when they were completely drunk, and Chuck thought it would be funny to spit vodka into Nate's mouth. It was funny, at first, but then it really wasn't as Nate's tongue rubbed against his. They ended up kissing messily, and sloppily, a first for Chuck, as Nate's overeager mouth left half done lovebites all over his neck and chest. Chuck begged Nate to let him fuck him that night, but Nate laughed in his face and said he never would, so they wrestled instead and it was just as satisfying in a strange sort of way.

One day Chuck's sure Nate will give in, and the thought of it makes him smirk: fucking both halves of the Upper East Side's golden couple. What would Gossip Girl have to say about that?

He supposes he should feel a bit guilty. Nate would hardly be happy if he knew about him and Blair, nor would Blair be thrilled to know that Chuck compares her technique to her ex-boyfriend when she slides her manicured hand up and down his dick, moaning prettily when he kisses her. He knows this can't go on forever of course. Something has got to give, but he hopes that he will be conveniently far away when Gossip Girl discovers Blair's playing Bass at the moment, and loving it. Preferably somewhere without cellphones or the internet.

Part of Chuck knows how upset Nate will be when he discovers Blair but it's a nice secret for the moment, and Chuck doesn't usually have nice secrets. He likes her more than most girls, for sure, and whilst he doesn't like her more than Nate, the idea of holding back, of not taking something that he wants, when he wants it, is pretty alien to him.

Three, the other two unknowing, is the perfect number for him: screw that third wheel bullshit, nothing compares to this. And he'll get away with it, he thinks: he's Chuck Bass. An expert at having his Nate and eating it. 'It' being Blair, of course.

He'll have them both for as long as he can, he thinks, revelling in the feel of Blair's warm mouth as she sucks chocolate sauce off his fingers; moaning gratefully as Nate deigns to get on his knees in front of him. So yes, perhaps he does feel bad when Nate tells him dirty stories about Blair, or Blair cries about Nate. And yes, he does feel a tiny bit disloyal kissing Blair with a mouth that's kissed Nate's abs more times than he can remember. But most of all he feels what he is: rich, privileged, beautiful, and horny. A winning combination.

-- end

Leading Lady

2007-05-26T20:25:00Z

Fandom: High School Musical
Pairing: Gabriella/Sharpey
Rating: R
Summary: Whore, cheerleader, seductress, Jezebel, she can play any sort of role, you know. Holly Golightley, Lolita, whatever. And then Gabriella comes mincing in with her froofy hair and suddenly she's been pushed out. Even the drama club don't have the respect for her they once did, even when she pulls her best Mrs Robinson on a new student who accidentally grazes her breast.

Gabriella is so dull it pains Sharpey to even look at her.

Leading ladies are not supposed to be like that. They are not about pastels, muted edges and demure, shiny, nude lipgloss. They are about brash colours and brasher statements, clothing so tight it brings them out in hives, bitchy putdowns and bodies that make boys' mouths go suddenly dry when they see them jogging past in tight-tight-tight hotpants and knee socks. Like, who even dresses like that to go jogging, seriously? It's all about the statement, though, so a little bit of discomfort is worth it for Sharpey to retain her hottest-of-the-hot title.

Except: Gabriella. She had hoped her shyness, her retiring nature, her intense modesty was some kind of act. She had even prayed for that, theatrically down on her knees by the side of her bed, eyes squeezed tight, demure in a white lace nightgown. You see, Sharpey understands what it's about: playing a role, constantly, always considering who's looking. But, Gabriella isn't playing a role, well, doesn't seem to be at least. She is nervous, blushing, delicate. Like some kind of virgin, Sharpey thinks. Ew.

Losing Troy to her isn't that big a deal, of course. She'd already given him a handjob last year and it had been like, the worst mistake ever. He went all cross-eyed and his eyes bugged out of his head and she swears to God he almost said 'Chad' when he came. Fag. But it's the principle of the thing. Seriously, as if Gabriella's fricking purity is hotter than Sharpey's tight white vests and wonder-bras, her oversized sunglasses and vintage flirty dresses. Whore, cheerleader, seductress, Jezebel, she can play any sort of role, you know. Holly Golightley, Lolita, whatever. And then Gabriella comes mincing in with her froofy hair and suddenly she's been pushed out. Even the drama club don't have the respect for her they once did, even when she pulls her best Mrs Robinson on a new student who accidentally grazes her breast.

Amateurs.

So, here she is, an understudy for crying out loud, rehearsing her heart out for some crappy little musical that she's way too good for but that's suddenly left her behind.

Okay, so she can admit that Gabriella has a good voice, if you like that sort of thing. Whispy and understated at first (just like her hair) but then powerful and dramatic when she lets herself go. Sstill, she's outrageously irritating to watch act. She cannot do angry in any way whatsoever. She can do sweet, nervous, giggling, virginal, sweet and nervous. But anything above and beyond this is stretching her, apparently. Sharpey rolls her eyes at everyone around her but no one wants to catch her eye any more. She sighs. She has to do something to explain to Gabriella how this all works.

After the rehearsal Sharpey strides over to her, heels clicking dramatically, smoothing her polka-dot skirt as she smiles aggressively at Gabriella.

'H-hi Sharpey,' she smiles.

Sharpey links an arm through hers. 'Gabriella, I want to rehearse with you, tonight, if you can. I know I'm just the understudy and you're the big star but I think it would help both of us don't you? So, tonight, six-thirty, you know my address.'

Gabriella isn't given a chance to reply as she flounces off. Dramatic exits, Sharpey thinks: that's the key.

And, true to obedient form, Gabriella turns up. Looking drab in a pale pink summer dress. Rehearsing is okay, Sharpey thinks. Like, Gabriella's improving under her expert tutelage and if she's being honest, she doesn't want the show to be an entire disaster. She wants Gabriella to mess up just enough to never try anything like this again, yes, but not to bring a bad name upon the drama club.

Gabriella bites her lips when she's nervous. It's quite an endearing habit, Sharpey notices, looking at her mouth hard, when, without warning there it is, pressed hard against her lips. No tongue, of course, but still, surprising.

Gabriella pulls back, looking shocked. 'I'm so sorry, so sorry, I just... wanted to... I don't know... you're so pretty and Troy always talks about you and I wondered what it would be like to... your lipgloss tastes of raspberry and you're so... so pretty...'

Sharpey can play this role, she thinks, as she stops Gabriella's stuttering with her lips, glossy and raspberry-flavoured and terribly, terribly experienced at this sort of thing. This kiss is better, tongues stroking one another and Gabriella even bites Sharpey's lower lip lightly which almost makes Sharpey moan until she gets hold of herself. It's like something out of Cruel Intentions, she thinks smugly, mentally casting herself as Sarah Michella Gellar.

This is the first time she's ever kissed a girl but she thinks back to every gay movie she's ever seen and tries to embody lesbian knowledge, to not act surprised when Gabriella's hand strokes over her breast, making her nipple harden and rise up to meet her warm palm. Sharpey feels shy, almost, as Gabriella pushes her shirt up and lets her tongue paint whispers over the tight, tanned tummy that Sharpey works so hard on. She pushes her shirt up and over her breasts, expertly flicking her bra open and kissing up and over the high curves of her tits. Licking down between them even as Sharpey tries to get her mind round what's happening, tries to think of a way she can regain the upper hand.

Gabriella's hand in her panties is unexpected but not unpleasant, stroking her gently until she convulses, sinking her teeth into Gabriella's soft shoulder as her hips buck up.

Gabriella smiles at her, toothily, which seems somewhat incongruous considering her drab vest is hanging off one shoulder and she's so wet Sharpey can almost smell her, which she's sure will seem gross later, but for now is just kinda hot. She doesn't entirely know what to do but pretends she does anyway, treating Gabriella's body like an extension of her own until she comes quietly, unassuming even in orgasm.

'So...' Gabriella is the first one to sit up, wiping the sheen of sweat off her forehead.

'So..?' Sharpey is sharp even in repose.

'Your first time?'

'God no!' Sharpey is offended, angry at her presumption.

'With a girl, I mean...' Gabriella does that annoying little half-smirk.

'Oh, oh... yes. Yes, it was. And my last, I expect. It wasn't all it was cracked up to be.' She raises one perfectly plucked arch of an eyebrow but the barb misses its target completely as Gabriella giggles at her.

'First times are never great, but as to it being your last time? I wouldn't be too sure about that. We do have to rehearse a lot, you know, to make sure I don't fuck this up as much as you think I will.'

She straightens her skirt and holds her hand out to Sharpey to shake.

'Our little secret.'

Sharpey shakes it, limply, a little bit disturbed by the wetness she can feel on Gabriella's fingers.

'Sure, our little secret.' She doesn't know quite how this all backfired.

'I'll see you tomorrow then, at rehearsal. Thanks for all your... help.' Gabriella sees herself out, which is useful considering Sharpey still feels so wrung out. Embarrassed. Horny, she thinks, regretfully. Rolling on to her stomach she thinks through how this one will play out, but for once she's not quite sure, not entirely certain as to how she can play it. Extra hot heterosexual at school tomorrow? French cigarette smoking cynical lesbian?

Or, for once, just Sharpey? Just, herself, in all her mixed-up, adolescent, ice queen glory?

She laughs at the thought and it seems to wake her out of her haze as she sits up and starts sorting through her closet for something that fits the bill. A true leading lady would take something like this on board, use it to shape her performance, use it to show Gabriella that what happened was a blip, that outside this room Gabriella's still the Melanie to her Scarlett.

'After all, tomorrow is another day!' she mouths at her reflection, straightening her hair with a flip and reapplying her kissed-off lipgloss.

Tomorrow, Gabriella, shy little geek-freak, will learn exactly who she's dealing with.

-- end

pickitup @ 2007-05-19T18:57:00

2007-05-19T17:57:49Z

Mean Girls slash, Gretchen/Cady
R rated

'Christmas Spirit'

For Hannukah Gretchen is given a brand new Mercedes convertible by her parents.

Karen gives her some fake jet studs with the label still left on them. They only cost $7.99. Gretchen will never wear them.

Regina gives her some second-hand clothes of hers. A pair of Versace pants that Gretchen used to covet, and a Heatherette dress. Gretchen is skinnier than Regina, with smaller boobs, so they won't fit properly, and she's only been given them because they don't fit Regina anymore but it's the thought that counts.

Cady gives her a photo frame with a picture of the four of them in. Cady and Regina look hot in the picture. Karen's ass looks too big, though, and Gretchen's arms are squished into her body so they look really fat. She has a double chin too. Ew.

Gretchen gives Regina a tiara that cost her Daddy a lot of money, and Karen gets a cheap bracelet and she tells Cady she accidentally left her present at home. She didn't of course, she just didn't get her one. Cady needs to know her place, sometimes.

When they make the swap at Regina's house, before her annual Christmas party, Gretchen pretends to love everything and hugs everyone tight, but only with one arm. They all air kiss and squeal. Gretchen's hair looks amazing, but the stress of pretending she likes the studs and photo leaves her stressed, and blotchy. Her Mom took her to the spa yesterday, and the effects of the facial haven't yet worn off. Her skin feels super-smooth though. It's all give and take, she thinks, pros and cons of everything.

Like, this meet-up in general. She gets presents, sure, but some of them suck and she gets tightly wound up with having to kiss Regina's ass more than usual even whilst she hates her extra-hard because the pants will be too big and she hasn't even had them dry-cleaned before she gives her them. Ew.

Regina on Christmas day is worse than Regina the rest of the year, Gretchen thinks. Regina has been extra spoilt this year. Her parents bought her two pug puppies. She doesn't even like dogs. Gretchen likes dogs, but she can't get any now, because Regina says her puppies are too highly strung to deal with the competition of other cute dogs. Regina also got a whole new wardrobe - too fat for her old one, Gretchen thinks - and tickets to Paris for her and 'one lucky friend!'. Gretchen will have to suck up more than ever before to get to go, she thinks, as she busily compliments Regina's outfit, her hair, her make-up.

Regina's mom makes them egg-nog and they get their party on. Gretchen likes that expression but Regina thinks it's stupid. Maybe it's Regina that's the stupid one, Gretchen thinks, mutinously. Regina's top is hot and she has a new Balenciaga bag, but Cady's stomach's flatter and she has a way cute belly-button ring in. Karen looks slutty. No change there then.

Everyone else starts to arrive at about eleven. Regina's mom scurries around like some sort of headless chicken, squawking and clucking as she takes everyone's coats and tries to catch unsuspecting fifteen year old boys under the mistletoe. What a loser. Regina throws a hissy-fit at her until she goes to the den with Regina's little sister and father. Regina's mom is creepy, but she looks good for her age. Not as good as Gretchen's step-mom, but her step-mom is like, twenty years younger than her so it's not like it's a fair contest or anything.

The party's all right, she supposes. Like, it's not very dramatic, and Gretchen's period's due so she feels all bloated and tender. Her breasts are aching and she's feeling horny but she has to trail Regina all night and make sure that she's the one to get invited to Paris. Karen gets in a fight with Regina's cousin and slaps her, so she's out of the running. Just her vs. Cady. She goes to tell Regina but she snaps at her to stop following her around like a puppy-dog and everyone laughs at her. She blinks frantically to fight back tears. She's too drunk, and feels out of control, and lost. She always gets like this when Regina turns on her. Because, she hates Regina, but what is she without Regina? No one, that's who.

Everything goes a bit blurry and she knows she's hitting the punch bowl that bit too hard, especially considering she's only eating tomatoes and lettuce at the moment. Her stomach feels all empty, with alcohol sloshing around in it, and she's hornier than before but she's feeling sick, too, and Jason, as usual seems to tell when she's feeling low and comes over to her.

Gretchen gives Jason a blowjob in Regina's bathroom. She closes her eyes and sucks and swirls her tongue around until he comes in record time. She tries to kiss him after or she'll feel used, but he turns his cheek to her instead and tears sting her eyes. Salty, vicious, viscous. Jason kisses Heather Montague that night, and Gretchen slaps him round the face but he just laughs. Gretchen tries to throw him out but he won't leave and Regina's busy holding court with a throng of hotties and rolls her eyes and tell her she's a skank.

Karen doesn't care.

Cady takes her to the bathroom and cleans her up. She washes her face tenderly and Gretchen notices how pretty her eyes are. Not hot, or striking or anything, just pretty. But pretty's okay and Gretchen kisses Cady, because she wants someone to kiss her, even if Jason won't, and anyone else she could possibly be interested in has already been claimed by Regina. Like, she dated them once in eighth grade so Gretchen doesn't get a look-in. Bitch.

Gretchen's tongue is probably still salty from Jason but Cady doesn't seem to care and the kiss is a lot longer, slower, more arousing than Gretchen could have imagined. Of course she's not a lesbian or anything, but any sort of unadulterated attention is exciting her right now after her stressed-out afternoon of sucking up and kissing ass. Now she's sucking Cady's tongue, kissing at her bottom lip and catching it between small, perfect, white teeth.

Cady's hand licks a secret trail down Gretchen's neck, past her collarbones and between her tits. She's wearing a Wonderbra and Cady traverses the unnaturally high curves of her tits.

'Don't,' Gretchen breathes, but she means 'do', and Cady does.

Her tongue licks insistently at Gretchen's clit, circling it and rubbing it until Gretchen can't do anything but come, helplessly, hard, tying her fingers into knots in Cady's perfect hair.

Cady scrubs her mouth and doesn't look at Gretchen after, as she sits, slumped, against the bath.

'Sorry.'

'It's okay, Cady.'

'I just wanted to... You looked so... I just needed to...'

'I know. I get it.'

And Gretchen does, she thinks. Sometimes life is so complex, and hard, and difficult. And sometimes being friends with Regina is harder than being enemies with her, and really similar to being enemies with her, at the same time.

And sometimes it all gets too much, giving someone else all your attention and time and gifts, and love, love, love, that you just... need a little bit for yourself.

'Regina's a bitch sometimes. You shouldn't let her push you around like this.' But the moment's gone, Gretchen's face has hardened again and she widens her eyes unnaturally and fluffs her hair.

'I don't know what you mean! I love her like she's my sister!'

Cady looks confused, forlorn even, kicked. Gretchen feels a tiny bit bad.

'Happy Christmas,' she tells Cady, and puts the $8 earrings Karen bought her in her hand and wanders back out of the bathroom to find Regina.

She wonders if she puts the right spin on what happens she can convince Regina that Cady's a lesbian.

Then she'd definitely be the one to go to Paris.

Priorities.

- the end

pickitup @ 2006-12-23T12:18:00

2006-12-23T12:54:01Z

Title: Power Play
Fandom: Mean Girls
Pairings: Regina/Gretchen, Gretchen/Cady
Rating: R
Summary: Sometimes Gretchen almost doesn't want to allow her down there, her thighs clutching one another rather than letting that barbed, bitter mouth anywhere so sensitive. But Regina touching Gretchen is rare, as it is, and she's not made of stone you know.

Regina will never kiss Gretchen, but she will tongue her clit, softly, just the right amount until she convulses, about to come, before pulling off and blowing on it.

Regina in bed is like Regina out of bed, after all. Did Gretchen ever imagine she would be any different? Yes. No. Well, maybe she wanted her to be a bit different, more compliant, softer. Like, with Regina flat out on her bed with her fingers screwing knots into her bedspread, perhaps the power shift would be more pronounced.

It's not, of course.

Regina George is Regina George. She is curvy and blonde and bitchy and manipulative. Her smile is too wide and her teeth too sharp, too pointed. Sometimes Gretchen almost doesn't want to allow her down there, her thighs clutching one another rather than letting that barbed, bitter mouth anywhere so sensitive. But Regina touching Gretchen is rare, as it is, and she's not made of stone you know. And, better Regina's mouth licking a whisper up her soft, brown thighs than some skanky boy pawing at her breasts and invading her mouth with a too-large tongue, licking past her teeth and trying to fuck her throat.

No. Regina is safer. If you can ever call Regina anything as stupid as 'safe'. They have been best friends for years. Since before Regina told everyone Janis Ian was a dyke, even. Even Gretchen appreciates the irony of that as she grazes her tongue over her pink, perky nipples, and strokes down and down and down. That story serves to remind Gretchen of how dangerous Regina is, and how lucky she is to be allowed to see her like this, naked and glowing, but still vicious and violent, even as she falls apart against Gretchen's tongue.

Regina will never let her finger fuck her. She wants to stay 'tight as a virgin' she says, lewdly, crudely, batting sooty black lashes over shrewd, horribly compelling eyes. So Gretchen licks a finger, rubs her clit, pushes herself up and over Regina's body so she's on top, and stares and stares at her, even as Regina's eyes close and her head twists to the side and she deliberately - maliciously - murmurs anyone else's name. Justin Timberlake, Aaron, Ashton Kutcher, whatever. Sometimes she says 'Karen', just to keep Gretchen on her toes, but it's when she says 'Cady' that Gretchen gets really mad. Rubs harder, faster, almost viciously, until Regina has to open her eyes, and moan and say 'shit' before she comes, hard.

Gretchen knows that Regina would rather have this lip-service, finger-service, whatever, performed for her, on her by Cady. Karen's no threat of course - she'll go with anyone and she's too into boys to ever really get off on this - but Cady's slightly different. The balance of power between Regina and Cady is such that Regina knows that she can never be entirely sure of her. Gretchen loves how mean she is, even whilst she hates it, and cries herself to sleep because of it. But Cady... well, Cady will only take so much. And Gretchen starts to doubt how in control Regina is, the rounder her ass gets. And Gretchen starts to doubt how loyal Cady is, the more she pries and probes for gossip, for weak-points, for any information about Regina.

And that's why Gretchen kisses Cady one day, over at Gretchen's house, in her room which is made to look as much like Regina's as possible. Gretchen lets her tongue trace her lips before pulling back, slightly worried but also defiant.

'We all do it. Guys love it when you kiss other hot girls. Just, don't make a habit of it. Don't do a Janis. Ew. She got totally obsessed with Regina, and it was almost dangerous how she'd follow her around. She was like, a, sex pest or something.'

And Cady says nothing but kisses her back, and marvels at how buttery-soft her skin is, how round and high her breasts are.

They make no sounds other than quiet, ragged breathing. Cady doesn't moan anyone else's name. Gretchen doesn't pretend she's doing this with Jason. And Cady makes Gretchen come, hard, which surprises her. Regina never lets her come, and inexpert teenage boys with clumsy fingers have never managed to, or had much interest in doing so. Gretchen's famed for being a giver, not a receiver, after all. That's why Regina picked her. She's no Queen Bee - but she's the best darned hanger-on any girl could wish for.

Normally Regina gets up straight afterwards, and rolls her eyes at Gretchen, telling her to wipe her mouth or wash her hands. Disgusted by her mere presence. But Cady rolls on to her stomach and smiles at Gretchen.

'Dyke,' she calls her. But her smile takes away the sting from the words. And she pulls her top back on, pushing her breasts up, and re-fastening her jeans which hug her ass so nicely.

'I can keep a secret.' Gretchen is worried, frantically pushing her hair behind her ears like she always does when she's nervous.

'Yeah, sure.'

And next time Gretchen lets Regina suck her nipples, grazing them that bit too hard, a wave of malice overwhelms her.

'Cady,' she lets herself mutter, loud enough for Regina to hear, but quiet enough for her to pretend that she didn't. 'Cady.'

Revenge tastes sweeter than she thought it would, as Regina finally kisses her, her tongue bubble gum sweet and slippery between painted pink lips.

Perhaps Gretchen is cleverer than they give her credit for.

Perhaps things will change.

Perhaps.

--end

pickitup @ 2004-04-01T20:57:00

2004-04-01T19:58:37Z

This journal contains original poetry, fiction, and fanfiction ranging from Olsen twincest to Harry Potter and The O.C. Mostly slash, some gen, some het. Adult themes throughout.

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