AN: this is a mature-themed story, filled with drama/humor/romance that focuses on Vanessa, Chuck, and Blair.

Takes place after "Remains of the J (220)."

i.

Use once and destroy.

"I care about three things: money, the pleasures money brings, and you."

i.

-x-

He laid back, not bothering to hide the expressive rectitude in his eyes while he stood transfixed on her behind, unknowingly to her. Fixing herself up, Vanessa had made it a definite point not to bother with looking at him for fear of him trying to initiate a third fling. Her heart dropped down to her stomach as she replayed the image of what had just occurred in her mind like a vivid movie. It was simply supposed to be a little game, something to rile the other two up, but what had happened? She had let her feelings of loneliness and betrayal cloud her judgment. So much so, that she had ended up in a tumbling mess of drunk kissing and sex, waking up—to her horror—in Chuck Bass' bed. Only to get half-dressed before she ended up in his bed again in a messy entangled naked dance that, still, felt so damn good.

Still, Vanessa felt quite disgusted at herself for betraying her own body like that.

She chastised herself as she tied her hair into a ponytail that didn't make her look like she had just gotten fucked. She should've known better, really, she just should've. From the first time when she had decided to trust him with the responsibility of saving her bar all the way down to this mess. It had been true what his father said, he had been good at letting others down and it most definitely had been true about what the others said; with Chuck Bass, there would always be a ulterior motive. At least he had finally gotten what he had wanted, what he hadn't gotten when he had made that bet with Blair to get physical. She shook her head, smiling at how ridiculous this situation was and wondering once more just how did she get herself into it.

Vanessa Abrams was nothing more than a roach in the world full of Chuck Bass' and Blair Waldorf's. The girl who, while she had not been privileged, had thanked the god's whenever she had been given a opportunity, something the spoiled ungrateful kids would never do, and still they had been the only ones to reap the benefits. Her lips thinned into a straight line, which had been somewhat hard to do. Sometimes, she found herself really feeling animosity for the teenage resident's of the Upper East Side, but then she reminded herself that she couldn't generalize the stereotypes, no matter if they hadn't known how lucky they had been to be born into riches.

Turning to face finally face Chuck, she let a small sigh escape her lips as if it could make everything better. It was funny how whilst in the act lust tended to take over all thought, while when it was all said and done it hit straight home.

"I'm leaving."

"How do you plan on doing that when there's people outside?" Chuck languidly replied, curious. His arms were placed behind his head comfortably as he looked at her with that mocking smirk that had become his trademark.

The strong-willed pride in her, was about to argue, the tip of her tongue willful; strongly opposing just for the sake of proving him wrong, to shut him the hell up. But the truth was, he was right. She could hear the early morning chatter of the van der Woodsen's and Humphrey's, oblivious to what had occurred between the two of them as they gobbled up their delicious breakfast and spoke of light-hearted topics. The food smelled delightful and caused her stomach to rumble loudly, startling herself and causing Chuck to look at her with a raised brow. "Hungry, Abrams?" He questioned in that deep voice of his, smooth as silk.

Vanessa stood still, ignoring the ache in her feet from being in her pumps, but she held her ground. She refused to get comfortable again for the sake of not knowing just what would happen. "I'm fine." Her tone was clipped, final as she watched him on his large lavish bed. The room itself was enormous, and for a moment she almost felt swallowed up in the excess space. But it was another luxury she could get used to.

In fact everything about this room was designed for luxury.

First there was the bed. It was a four poster canopy with a mattress so thick and plush that it required the use of a step stool to climb into it. The coverlet was a design of blue and silver flowers and the material was the finest silk, she could tell as she ran her fingertips over the embroidery the night before. The pillows were filled with down, soft and heavenly.

And from there the room continued in the same fashion. There was a vanity, complete with cushioned seat, double mirrors etched with beautifully carved detail. On the far side of the room stood a desk, the roll top was down and she wondered what was stored in its compartment momentarily. To the right of the desk was another set of doors, only these were glass paneled and led out to a balcony that over looked the bustling city of Manhattan.

Such splendor was almost too grand for Vanessa's taste. It only served to make her feel less like a lady and more like the unwanted nobody that she truly was. Suddenly she felt more insecure than she ever had in her entire life.

"Suit yourself."

There was a chaise by the window, and he made a gesture to sit there with a move of his head nodding in the direction.

"Sit by the window? What this is?"

"I thought you could use a little rest."

"Chuck?"

He narrowed his eyes; his voice was clipped, lacking seduction, "It's not in my nature to beg, Abrams. Are you willing to challenge me? I'm too bored to attempt a fight." She noticed the stern line on his lips, then leaned her head to one side, as if to actually scorn this decision.

She had wanted to perhaps say something witty, something that would bother him. However, something told her, in the eyes, perhaps, there in Chuck's unmoving dark stare, to sit quietly and with a defeated sigh, she did so. For a while, they sat quietly; Vanessa playing with her hands, fidgeting and trying her hardest to keep cool at the awkward situation. Chuck, not even remotely bothered and incredibly bored, until a naughty idea found it's way into his devious mind. Stretching lazily, he stood out of the bed, walking languidly in her direction and before she could object, he was beside her naked and smirking devilishly.

They sat together, a little apart, as much as the chaise allowed them room; Chuck's too long legs nearly touching her naturally tanned ones despite her efforts of keeping away. He leaned over closer to her unashamed, removing a stray curl that managed to come loose from it's confines and graze along the skin of her collarbone. He snickered slightly, noticing his handy work left on her long, elegant neck and Vanessa lifted a brow in question of his sudden amusement. "What is so funny?" She was trying her hardest to seem as if she really had been uninterested, but he knew better.

"You might want to wear something a little more… unrevealing." He intoned indelicately, his arm braced over the side of the chaise, fingers nearly touching where her shoulders were pressing against the smooth, velvet texture.

"Concern over my choice of fashion, Chuck?" She sent him an arched brow, her hand still fidgeting in her lap.

"Not at all," he breathed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just thought that you might've wanted to conceal the large hickey that you somehow managed to acquire on your neck."

"What?" Vanessa's eyes widened, her blood boiling to heightening degrees as she placed her small hand over her neck in horror. "Chuck, what they fu—?"

He held up a hand, silencing her, "You don't want to have the other's coming into the room and finding out you're here on account of you being loud, do you? The fact is, Abrams, unless you want everyone out there to know you spent the night with me, you are stuck in this room with me. So I suggest you quit being so standoffish and start enjoying my company, whether you like it or not." His eyes moved along the immaculate walls, the silence in the beautiful room deafening. "Now, let's talk about something else, shall we? Or we can go back to the bed, go for a third round." He leaned forward, placing a light kiss on her shoulder that, even though she hated to admit it, had given her shivers.

Vanessa pushed away from him, bothered by his comment and the feeling his touch had caused in her. Chuck smiled at this, but nothing more. She knew that he had been right, they were stuck here, in this lavish room, so she might as well put her stubbornness aside and deal with the situation she had found herself in as best as she could. She was a smart girl—at most times—and levelheaded for the most part, she could handle herself against the ever-so-irresistible Chuck Bass for a little longer.

"All right," Vanessa nodded, acknowledging, grasping for a subject, "What is your definition of family?"

He turned to her, his eyes turning to ice; and she knows she was touching too close. It had been meant to cause something deep within him to stir and she smiled, a mischievous one of her own, at the look on his face. He looked shocked, surprised at the words that had came out of her mouth. Nobody had really ever asked such a question and even if they did, he couldn't be quite sure if he would answer.

"You wish to know about my relationship with my father?"

Shrugging, her body leaned heavily against the chaise, felt Chuck's fingers touch; for a moment the tension built.

"Yeah, what do you know about unconditional love?" Vanessa asked.

"Unconditional." He said, quiet, as if tasting it on the tip of his tongue, "Blood relations, are usually unconditional."

"But not for anyone else?"

He shook his head, slight.

"But why?" she asked, generally interested and not aware of his body tensing.

"Why what?" he leaned closer, "you want to know why he had constantly brought me down? Why he had refused to take me seriously about helping you out with the bar and anything else, for that matter? Is that what's going on in your mind?"

"You forget—," she grits, "that I saw what he told you, and I heard what you had told him. I still believed in you, until I found out it was all a ploy between you and Blair."

He snorted inelegantly, disregarding her comment, his fingers drumming a little, deliberately touching the edge of her shoulder before moving back to the conversation at hand.

"Family. Blood. Yes, before my father passed away, family was unconditional."

She detected nothing behind the tenor, falling deep into a decline, smooth as vanilla.

"And after?"

He tilted his head, moved his fingers so that they were touching her black strands that lay against her shoulder; she was uncomfortable by this slight touch and at the same time, she couldn't answer the reason why she breathed in deep, bottomless like her clutching soul.

"After, it's absolute; unrestricted like the way you love your friends." Chuck's eyes stood locked on her own, never faulting.

Her fine, dark brows arched; green eyes mystified, "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, is that all?" He told her as he continued looked to stare into her green orbs.

"Your father…"

"He loved my mother unconditionally," he added, as quickly as her fears had risen; they fell to the depths. "and with my birth, I took her away."

She swallowed, closing her eyes, "My father,"

"Really, I could care less but," A dispassionate reply, not entirely without irritation, "continue." He nodded, his eyes glinting; messy wave of hair on top of his scalp and still, he had looked sexy. She stared to the strong nose, lean face; really looked where she could see traces of Bartholomew and Evelyn Bass combined. Vanessa had seen photographs, memorabilia's, some of the kept memories of his mother and father that littered certain places in his room if a person looked hard enough.

"He says, to my mother, one day that his love was conditional. That his love would always be conditional when it came to her; but to my sister and me—it was different. We were blood."

They were quiet like that, staring at each other, as if assessing the weight of their words.

Not soon after, a knock sounded at the door, startling the both of them. Chuck slide into action, removing himself from his perch beside Vanessa, standing close to the door before howling, "Who is it?"

"Eric," the young male's voice muffled through the door, friendly and confident. She caught a glimpse of a smile on Chuck's face at the answer. "I was wondering if you were okay? Breakfast has been ready for over fifteen minutes now and you still haven't come around. Are you alright?"

The scene that played out before her had confused Vanessa beyond belief. It was strange to see someone genuinely caring for Chuck Bass who hadn't been bribed to do so.

"I'm fine. Just had a long night." He winked at Vanessa when he said this and she turned her gaze away from his, hating the fact that she was beginning to blush.

"Oh, okay. I get the point." Was the last of the young man's words before departing back to the family breakfast. It seemed he knew exactly what the promiscuous Bass had meant.

Still gloriously naked, Chuck returned back in place near the lone female at the chaise, a long yawn emanating from his lips as he did so. He turned to Vanessa, "They'll be leaving soon, then you can make your escape."

"Hopefully." She reached over to push the escaping curls aside, her hair had gotten a little long, where the black tendrils grazed the skin of her shoulders, "Would you mind putting on some clothes?"

"Would you stop acting like a little child for a second? It's not as if your mouth had never been on my—"

"I swear to god, Chuck, if you finish that sentence I'll strangle you."

"You're incredibly violent at times, do you know that?" He whispered into her ear and she tried to move farther away from him, but to no avail. She had pushed as far as she could go.

"Only when someone pisses me off enough, then yes, I can be." She said in agreement, giving him a glare that spoke volumes. He was sure if looks could kill, he would've definitely been dead in that very instant.

"You're an odd girl." Chuck returned as he moved to his bed, annoyed at her PMSing anti-social fit. He had had enough at this point, tired of her constant bi-polar mood swings.

Vanessa frowned, "What does that mean, Bass?"

"That means, Abrams," he began mockingly, body half hidden underneath his covers. "that you think that you're better than us rich people, but there you are, dating our kind, going to our parties, even fucking us." He smirked when she cringed at the last one. "You know, deep down, you love us and probably want nothing more than to be like us."

"Fuck you," she whispered menacingly, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted nothing more than to punch him straight in the nose, but held herself back. Why had she done this to herself? Why? She let out an aggravated sigh as she suddenly buried her face in her hands, before saying, "What am I doing here?"

"This conversation is going nowhere fast."

Vanessa looked up at him, knowing that it had been no one's fault but her own. The sudden thought of his earlier words of his father filling her ears. She smiled lightly, shaking her head while he looked on, confused. "You know, I believe you."

"What?"

"I believe that you," she repeated. "actually believe what you said about family."

"That's a first of many." He sent her a smirk, but it disappeared as soon as it was shown. Chuck was once again, the face of a hard-masked angel. Angel… Vanessa wondered why she compared him to a face of an angel; and even angels, she remembered from her readings as a child. They were manifested into demons after the fall.

"Come here." He said suddenly, his voice smooth, silky.

Startled, she paused for a moment, contemplating what she should or shouldn't do. Vanessa looked at him, really looked at him, before she had finally made her decision. She knew that this was wrong, that she shouldn't, but she had already done it twice. A third time wouldn't hurt. After all, she was an adult, she knew what this was and expected nothing more. Hell, who even knew if she would even speak to him again? So, she took her place next to him once more.

In the swathe of the morning light, they merged in heated silence. Her face above his, she was so close—so close that he could hear her panting and as she breathed harshly, her hands moved of their own accord and placed them over his chest. Pushing them aside, he shook out of them; the sound of expensive silk blended with the hushed noise around them; their heated breaths mingled in the aviance of their illicit sexual need.

Knowing what would come next, Vanessa swallowed with anticipation, her eyes slightly closed. She didn't even like Chuck. Not really. Not at all. But then again, mostly everyone in the New York area hadn't.

His hands had slowly gone up to hold her small waist, pushing up the dress. She helped him release the material that barred their skins from touching. The contact of his fingers on her breasts made her gasp, but more so as his lips touched where his hands had gone.

"Vanessa…." Chuck quietly groaned, saying her name for the first time. "You've been a very bad girl."

"No…" She gasped again; her head was thrown back as he pulled her lower body close to his—his hand squeezed her waist, the masculine lean fingers glided to the firm round ass he was begging to become so familiar with.

"No?" He growled softly, and in his predatory way—crashed his lips to hers; their hot tongues played with unsuppressed need, and she was seductively moving her partially nude body against his.

Vanessa had moved gracefully and wantonly in the morning light that sneaked through the crevices of his room, emitting soft cries of want and need; as if she couldn't get enough of his ministrations. He was a master manipulator in every way, but this time as Chuck pushed her down to him, her heat encasing him—he was owned.