Fic: The Corrupt and the Corrupted (Chuck/Dan, R) part a
The water poured down on Dan. The heated rain turning his skin red as it tried to wash away the stain of Chuck on his body. Won’t work of course, he’d tried that before, ever since that first time. But no matter how many times he washed he never got the feel of Chuck off his skin. It was like Chuck was seared there, marked somewhere deep inside of him and every time they were together…
He got in even deeper.
The messed up thing was, he actually didn’t mind sometimes - having Chuck there. Sometimes it could even resemble something that he might have categorized as, kind of nice.
God, he needs to have his head examined. Or maybe his dick. It’s not entirely impossible that he caught something from Chuck and it was already working its way at destroying his brain.
Or maybe Chuck Bass was a sexually transmitted disease in itself.
It might explain a lot.
Either way, tonight really wasn’t one of those nights where it was nice. It wasn’t even one of those nights where it was remotely ok. Tonight, he just wanted Chuck off him; away from him; that mark he left behind buried somewhere so deep and far away even he can’t find it anymore. Tonight he just wanted it to be over.
Tonight he wanted out.
He touched his neck softly, tracing the bruises left there. It was a little sore but that didn’t bother him as much as the marks did; the very visible evidence of Chuck’s ownership of him.
His eyes got wetter. He pretended it was from the shower as he washed the come out of his ass. He’d gotten used to doing that too. He remembered, at the start, the shame he felt when he had to do that. He’d forgotten when it’d stopped.
He really is Chuck’s whore.
***
The Upper East Side and drama. They come together like fire and smoke, and for the millionth time in his life Dan wondered if he’d be better off studying somewhere a little less prestigious and a little more sane.
He hadn’t seen Chuck for the past couple of days (in fact, no one had, not that he’s worried or anything) but the marks on his neck still hadn’t faded. The scarf was almost permanently on his neck now, but at this moment in time he had more pressing issues than Chuck Bass.
Like the fact that his sister was getting herself into more trouble than she can handle...again. And no one was picking up their damn phones!
He went over to his computer and checked Gossip Girl. The site may have been the bane of his existence for the past year and half but it was at least always updated. If Jenny did anything catastrophic, pretty much all of New York would know about it in about 30 seconds.
“What?”
He stared at the latest update. There, under E-blast #713, Nate with his mouth on Jenny, her hand hands resting on his neck. Underneath, Gossip Girl echoed his thoughts.
“How long has this been going on?”
***
“Dan hey”, Nate greeted him casually, looking like a blue eyed James Bond in his tux and that smile. Dan didn’t hold anything back as he launched himself against him, pushing him hard against the wall with a satisfying thump.
He ignored the familiarity of the scene.
“We took you into our house Nate!” He yelled. “We trusted you! How dare you?”
“Look Dan, it’s not like I planned on it alright?” Nate said as he shrugged Dan off. “Things just happened! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but people fall for each other! And we’re two years apart, it’s not like I’m some creepy old perv.”
“No,” Dan said with a sneer; stepping back into Nate’s personal space. “You’re just a whore. And I don’t want a whore around my little sister.”
The words were quietly and slowly spoken but the anger in them was undeniable. The words were measured, cut perfectly for the purpose of hurting someone.
Again, it was familiar. Too familiar and Dan tried his hardest not to think about it; focusing instead on Nate; on the pretty eyes that widen in shock at the words; at the “o” shape of his mouth as he gaped at Dan’s cruelty.
It only took a few seconds for Nate to recover though; his blue eyes turning cold as he turned the accusation around.
“Big talk, considering who, you’re sleeping with,” he throws back.
Dan reeled.
“How did you..?”
Nate didn’t answer him. Instead he stepped closer to Dan, eyes unreadable as he took Dan’s expensive scarf in his hand. A shudder ran through him and he took a step away; Nate’s hand still holding the soft material as it slipped off his neck.
There was a gasp. The scarf discarded on the floor, as Nate’s gaze met his pale, naked and bruised neck. He didn’t have to see a mirror to be reminded of how ugly it looked; how obvious the dark colours were; like spilt water colours on a wet canvas.
He grabbed the offending material off the floor and put it back around his neck. Not that it really mattered.
He’s completely marked as Chuck’s property now; with or without the scarf.
“Dan,” Nate’s voice softened, anger melting away as he approached Dan like he was a frightened deer, “Is he hurting you?”
Dan made the mistake of looking at Nate for a split second and flinched. He gritted his teeth at the pity he saw there, laced into Nate’s words, and shining in those damnable blue eyes. The pity radiating from him sat heavily in Dan’s stomach, made him feel sicker than anything Chuck ever did.
“None of your business Nathaniel.” he said with spite before pulling himself together, back straightening. “Just get the hell out of my home.”
***
Middle of the night.
It was supposed to be dark but with the curtains open, the lights glittered from outside Dan’s window. Bright lights from the city that never sleeps.
Not even in Brooklyn.
The lights outside wasn’t the only source of light in the room though; no, tonight there was also light coming from Dan’s computer, from the bright white screen as it rapidly began to fill with tiny black text.
Dan didn’t care what time it was tonight. It may not have been a school night but that doesn’t mean he won’t be dead on his feet the next day. Still, he didn’t care, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep right now anyway, not with all that he felt inside him, dark and twisted and more fucked up than he ever thought he was capable of feeling.
Charlie Trout filled his mind. The sinister glint of his eyes, the deviousness of his smile; his touch, his life, the way his hands gripped the glass of scotch, the lost look on his face when he told him about his father. Everything he felt about him he poured into the screen, all the hate, all the anger, all the pain, all the helplessness and a whole lot of ‘something else’ he didn’t dare to name.
He didn’t think he’d ever been this angry before in his life, this confused; everything just swirled inside him. He wasn’t even sure what he was writing anymore.
He cut out the details of his sex life with Chuck. He really didn’t want Shapiro reading about it. Or anyone for that matter. It was bad enough that Nate knew.
The look on Nate’s face flashed in his mind again. He pushed it out of the way and told himself he was fine. That he may be messed up right now, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.
As he clicks send on his email, he thinks maybe Chuck is wrong about him being a good liar.
***
Chuck couldn’t sleep tonight.
That fact alone was of course, nothing new. Chuck had never been one to enjoy sleep at night anyway, preferring instead, to leave that to the early hours of the morning if possible.
For him, night was usually the best time to be awake, time when most of the decent, ‘wholesome’ people pack up and go home and leave the rest of the damn world alone. Time when people like him could rise under the cover of darkness and the lure of its beautifully twinkling lights. He never faired quite as well in the harsh light of day as he did during its darker counterpart.
This night was different.
Or to be honest, it’s been different for a couple of nights now.
Of course, it’d be very easy for him to simply blame his recent back injury for his reluctance to leave his room. Holding up the weight of another man’s body, one that was roughly the same size as his own, without the use of his hands (which had instead been used to strangle the guy) was, in retrospect, not the best position for rough sex.
Don’t get him wrong, he’s done it in much more complicated positions before, and had even worse injuries from them, he is Chuck Bass after all, but still, none of those times ever involved Dan Humphrey and there was no way he would ever let Dan Humphrey know that he got hurt having sex with him.
If he was honest with himself though, he knew that wasn’t the entire reason he was reluctant to go out anywhere.
Dan’s face haunted him again.
The defeat he saw there in lost brown eyes.
It was frustrating, having that memory looping inside his head. After all, the entire purpose of this game had been just that. Defeating Humphrey, that was his goal. It’s what they do, a part of the cruel but intoxicating game they play with each other.
It really shouldn’t bother him this much that one of them had lost.
Especially when that ‘one’ isn’t himself.
What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t Dan fucking Humphrey! Chuck Bass doesn’t feel guilt! Not over this. It wasn’t like Humphrey mattered to him. He doesn’t! He’s just a toy. A toy he owns and can break if he wants to.
It’s just; maybe he didn’t want to break Dan as much as he thought he wanted to.
Sighing in frustration, Chuck shifted on his bed again.
He wondered if it was possible that Dan might be the one corrupting him instead of the other way around.
***
Continue: part b