Okay, so this is a kind of smutty M-rated Jesse St James/Sebastian fic, and now I'm going to hide D:

Why is he even here?

Shoving his hand through his hair, pulling it back from his face, Jesse sighs. What the hell is he, Jesse St James doing here, of all places? He glances around at the other people, never catching an eye for too long. It seems nearly everyone is watching him, staring at him, eyeing him up like they're the predators and he's the prey. For possibly the first time in a long time, he feels nervous and small, almost insignificant. And he hates feeling like that. He is always the centre of attention, the one everyone looks at and admires and wants to be like. Now Jesse has all eyes on him and he doesn't like it at all.

He's seriously doubting his sanity in deciding to come here.

He's not even gay. At least, he's pretty damn sure about it. He's never had the slightest interest in guys. In fact, he's quite sure he's into girls. To be honest, he's probably as straight as they come, despite the barbs often thrown at him – at least, before he was Vocal Adrenaline's most powerful singer and number one star. Before he was important. So why is he here, drinking himself into oblivion in Lima's gay bar?

Ask him again when he's sober.

The music's pumping, loud and obnoxious dance tracks that Jesse tries his best to tune out. He's doing his best to push all his senses back so he doesn't have to remember where he is, that there are people out there, staring at him, hunger in their eyes like they're starving and he's the only piece of meat for miles – and being Lima, and seeing how the club was half-empty, he may as well be. Ignoring his senses, he doesn't have to feel the heat in the place, feel the sweat on the back of his neck, the way he's so uncomfortable and awkward here.

He sighs, gesturing for the guy behind the bar for a refill. He's not even sure what he's drinking anymore. The man walks over, pouring the amber liquid into Jesse's glass. As he does, the dark-haired singing sensation is acutely aware of someone sliding into the seat next to him.

"On me."

Jesse glances over, eyeing the brunette beside him. He's taller than the high school student, kind of average looking, no one that would really stand out in a crowd. The guy looks down at Jesse and smiles in a way that he supposes is meant to be seductive or something. He's not really sure and doesn't honestly care.

He's not gay anyway.

"You're new here," the guy says as Jesse chugs the drink back and almost slams the glass back down on the table with a dull thud.

"If you're such a brilliant observer," Jesse's voice drips with sarcasm "Surely you can tell I want to be left alone."

His hostility doesn't seem to faze the guy who simply smirks and takes a swallow of his own drink, "You came to here to be left alone? Try thinking that one through next time."

"Piss off."

"Rather not."

Jesse turns his head and glares at the guy, not wanting to ever admit to himself that maybe he's slightly intimidated by him. Because this guy is smooth and cool and more so than Jesse could ever hope to be. He portrays some collected and popular 'cool guy' image to the rest of the school, but here he's no one and this stranger who's just come over and started talking to him makes him feel like he could never be anyone. Just someone small and – that word again – insignificant. He hates it. He hates this guy.

"What do you want?"

The guy raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to look at Jesse as he replies, "What do you want?"

"I asked you," the singer shoots back defensively.

"Well, maybe that's what I want."

Jesse snorts, "Right. You're in a club just to talk. Don't screw with me."

The stranger keeps on talking as if Jesse never said anything, "I get the vibe that you're angry."

"What on earth gave you that idea?"

Still he continues as if the other boy hasn't spoken, "And I don't know if you're angry at someone or the world. Maybe both. Maybe you're just angry for no good reason. But let me just say that it's pretty hot."

Jesse glares at the glass in front of him as the guy talks, trying not to listen but he can't stop himself because everything he's saying is making sense. He is angry. He's angry. And he's not even sure why. He has no reason to be angry. Vocal Adrenaline is on to Nationals this year thanks to him. He's so high up on the popularity food chain that he doesn't even see half the people at Carmel. He spends every school day ignoring teachers and getting perfect grades, and the weekends are full of partying and drinking. Except this weekend, of course. This weekend his friends are out of town and he's here, drinking himself to death in this place. Oh, how his status in Carmel would plunge if people knew he was here. How they'd laugh at him, taunt him like they used to do before he was Jesse St James, the one to be. And this guy, who he doesn't even know, is digging right into his head and it scares him. Is he really so transparent?

And then the guy finishes and Jesse just gets angrier. He's not gay. This guy shouldn't find him hot, and there's no way he should find this stranger hot, and did he just think that because he's starting to scare himself now. He gets up, kicking at the wood of the bar in his frustration before storming off. He doesn't even know where he's going until he finds himself in the middle of the dance floor, amidst hot, sweaty, grinding bodies and thumping music. He's pushed around, grabbed at by needy hands and he violently shoves them away, hating them on his shoulders, his chest. He has to get out of here but he's lost now and he can't find his way out. He's stumbling around, drunk, in circles and getting more and more desperate by the second. Then another hand grips his now-sweat-soaked shirt and pulls him forward. Jesse fights it, trying to push this guy away, but he can't, he's not strong enough. He looks up into striking blue eyes and recognises the same stranger he was talking to. He doesn't even know this guy's name and he's certainly not gay but suddenly he's being pulled forward even closer and he's pressed against the other's chest.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Name's Sebastian," he mutters – at least, he would have, but the music was too loud for that and it ended up being a sort of shout but it was low enough to send shivers up Jesse's spine and really it shouldn't do that but it does and it scares the hell out the kid. He's not sure what to do but feels as if he should answer so he does, hating how his voice sounds so shaky.

"J-Jesse."

Sebastian doesn't seem to care, staring down at him as everyone else dances around them. The heat is almost shimmering the air and it's hot and sweaty and Jesse can't escape Sebastian's grip. He tries to pull away half-heartedly, thinking how stupid it was to come here and get drunk, and now he was utterly wasted and this guy looks about ready to pounce and dammit he is more than a little scared right now.

And then Sebastian leans down just enough to stop Jesse from saying anything else, lips meeting in an almost ridiculously soft kiss. Jesse can't move because he's still being held in place but he doesn't think he'd be able to move anyway. He's barely even breathing. Sebastian presses harder, demanding, and Jesse doesn't even know what to do anymore. He's acting on instinct when he parts his lips but apparently it was the right thing to do. Emotions are tumbling around inside him as Sebastian's tongue invades his mouth and suddenly they all but making out in the middle of the dance floor at Scandals when the guy starts sliding his hands up under Jesse's shirt. Jesse is really too drunk to do anything about it, and strangely, he doesn't really care. He lets Sebastian kiss him harder, biting on his lower lip, hands trailing where they probably shouldn't. A song has comes on that Jesse vaguely recognises but he can't really recall anything at the moment.

You
Your sex is on fire

Jesse realises he's kissing back and he knows he shouldn't be but he is. And fuck, there can't be anything better than this and he knows that's not right, because he's not gay. But this other guy certainly is and with his tongue down the singer's throat, he's making a pretty clear point. As drunk as he is, Jesse decides now's a good time to lose himself and just let this guy do what he wanted, because dammit he didn't really care that much and he was beginning to think that maybe they wanted the same thing after all. His body is doing its own thing now anyway, sheen of sweat over his skin, hips moving of their own accord. Sebastian has one hand in his hair and tugs on it hard, causing Jesse to make the most obscene sounds.

He doesn't remember why he's here anymore, but he's glad he came.

Sebastian pulls him off the dance floor, Sex on Fire still ringing in the singer's ears as the taller boy drags him off somewhere quiet and alone. It takes him a minute to realise he's shoved against the wall of a toilet cubicle but within seconds the thought is gone as Sebastian's hand wanders where it really shouldn't be going. He's muttering in Jesse's ear, dirty words that are having a serious effect on him – or maybe it's just that Sebastian's hand is down his jeans. Jesse has the stability of mind to think for half a second that maybe this isn't such a good situation to be in, but then it's gone as he tries to slam his hips up against the taller boy's, moaning some form of the name he's only just learned about five minutes ago – or was it longer?

Sebastian's free hand grips Jesse's waist hard, the skin slick with sweat. Jesse just tangles one hand in Sebastian's hair and the other curves around the boy's back, trying to get something more. And he knows he's close, and there's a white heat as he shouts out a broken version of Sebastian's name and then it's all over. The taller boy swears, grinding his hips hard against Jesse's for a moment before he stumbles back. There's a satisfied smirk on his face but Jesse's collapsed on the ground with his eyes closed so he doesn't notice. He sits there for a second, trying to get some semblance of rational thought back, failing miserably.

"See you around."

Jesse looks up just in time to see Sebastian walk out like nothing's happened. He stares, willing his voice to work to he can tell the bastard to get the fuck back here. But he watches him go instead. Finally he gets to his feet, the next ten minutes a blur in his mind. Somehow he finds himself outside the bar in the driver's seat of his car, staring at the steering wheel.

He's not sure what to do now. If anyone found out, if anyone knew what had just happened… it would probably be helpful, because he isn't entirely sure himself. He lets out a chuckle, surprised at his own voice. No, they'd hate him again. He'd fall all the way back down the ladder he'd fought so damn hard to scale. No, Jesse St James is at the top of that ladder and there is no way he's letting it go at all. No one will ever take that from him. He's at the top now, after years of torment and verbal abuse from the boys who didn't realise just how determined Jesse St James is. Didn't know that the days of assuming he was gay and taunting him about it would lead to the most tenacious and dangerous of opponents. Jesse St James does not back down.

So no one will ever know, he thinks to himself. No one. This will stay between himself and Sebastian, he promises. His friends will never hear of it, the other students, the other kids in Lima. No one. Never.

He can't believe he just did that. He's still wasted beyond belief but he never thought he'd do something like that. He's better than that. He's better than some gay fucker who thought he was so hot and smooth. He's better than that. Just another reason no one will ever know – can ever know. It would ruin him.

He drives off, but he can't get that blue-eyed boy out of his mind.

I love Seb St James to death. In my top three ships after Niff and Klaine. Don't judge me ;P

Review? *hopeful*