"Are you okay, Sannie?" Sebastian purred into her ear, one hand passed low over her midriff, the other up her chest, fingers curling around the tanned column of her neck.
Each breath she took pressed her throat out against his filthy hand. They were alone now, the cello players having left long ago. The only audience they had was the chairs, some fallen, some still standing. "Fine." She ground out, swallowing and trying to ignore the pressure of his hand tightening.
"Wrong answer." Sebastian said, and she could feel his smirk as his other hand gripped her bare thigh hard enough to leave bruises.
Again, Santana opened her mouth to reply, but a curse died on her tongue when he choked her. "Make a wise move, Lopez."
Tears welled up in her eyes against her will. The pressure on her throat faded but did not go entirely. Santana took in a shuddering breath, clenching her eyes shut. By her sides her hands were balled into tight, white-knuckled fists. "I don't know." She whispered. It echoed in the empty room.
"Good girl." Sebastian crooned. His breath drifted across her shoulder, goosebumps popping up in its wake despite the warmth. Santana obviously shuddered in his grasp, but was unable to move. Though she would not tell anyone, Santana was more bark than bite. She would fight - and fight fiercely - when she had to, but intimidation was her prime method of defense.
Intimidating Sebastian just didn't work. He smirked and laughed in her face; he called her bluff every single time.
The hand on her thigh breezed over her underwear beneath the tight black dress she wore. It was not new territory, not for boy or girl. Santana didn't have enough fingers to count how many had slipped up there, chased lines along her ribs, fondled the artificially perfect chest she bore proudly. But these left her sick.
Soon they wrapped around the recorder taped there, just below the underwire signalling the start of her bra. "What's this?" Sebastian breathed. His fingers pulled roughly at the bindings keeping the small object in place, yanking it out. "What is this, Sannie?"
To say that Santana had no bite at all was a lie. She stomped down hard on his foot, causing Sebastian to flinch. "I don't know." She snarled, turning, free of his grasp. With haste she put between him and her one of the chairs, holding onto the high back as if it were a shield.
Sebastian glanced over the object in his hands, nodding slowly, an almost appreciative smile appearing on his face. "I know all about you." He began with an odd non-sequitur, putting Santana even more on edge. "Little Miss Lima Heights. Your record isn't stellar. At this rate your bimbo girlfriend will be out of this town before you are." Santana's grip visibly tightened against the finely upholstered seat in her grasp. "Coming here, recording me, Sannie... my father is an attorney. The things I could do to your personal record." He shook his head, laughing, and dropped the recorder to the floor. The polished surface of his dress shoes glinted under the lights as he twisted his heel over the tiny device, destroying it.
"So what the fuck do you want with me?" Santana asked, put more on edge by Sebastian than anyone before. She couldn't put a finger on what it was - what about him made her feel so anxious, so nervous. It could perhaps be that he had openly attacked Kurt earlier, or even that in his eyes there was no sympathy. There was cruelty - amusement and malice. Nothing to suggest that he cared about her at all, not even on a fundamental, human level.
For a second he was conflicted. His jaw worked, the muscles pulled tight. He opened his mouth to speak but made no more than a syllable before stopping and collecting himself. "My parents - my father, in particular - have high hopes for me. High hopes that do not involve..." Sebastian fell into an awkward silence, once more struggling with himself to find the words. He stepped forward, grabbing Santana's wrists with a speed she was helpless to avoid. "Boyfriends. Or anything of that sort."
Santana could almost relate. They were too alike. She could sense the self-loathing, the terror at finding oneself without family or friend to rely on. All at once her thoughts returned to her Abuela, and those tears from earlier, from his hand cutting off her breathing, they came right back. These tears did not come from Sebastian's hand, though. They came from the memory of a night gone so wrong, a relationship tarnished forever.
They'd both built these shields, these walls. Santana knew that they were both too far gone to go back.
Sometimes you start out with a bluff, you deceive and you lie and you pretend and before you have a chance to think about who you really are that person is gone.
You become your lie.
Inside Santana's pride was contending with herself, her sense of self-preservation. Sebastian had his hands on her again before she could find the words to calm him. "You want to get out of your pathetic redneck town. I get that." Her wrists were locked in one of his hands, the digits on the other loosening his tie and pulling it over his neck. "Do what I say or the best place you'll wind up is a correctional facility."
By now she should know not to underestimate him. Sebastian kicked away the chair separating them, pulling her arms sharp behind her back and driving a knee into the small of her back. Immediately she crumbles to the ground with a cry. Instinctively Santana moves her hands to stop her face impacting with the ground, but they're being bound with the Dalton uniform tie and her cheek hits the hardwood with a resounding smack.
"Let me go!" Santana cries, her voice returning to her after so long. It bounces off the walls, and she wonders just what would happen if she was found there by anyone else. Would Sebastian's father pay them off? Take them to court?
Would they even help her?
"Sannie, my dear, I don't want this as much as you don't." Sebastian intoned. Santana felt blood roll along the contour of her lip to pool on the ground beneath her cheek. Despite his admission, Sebastian touches her almost reverently.
Looking at her back, maybe, he doesn't have to accept her breasts pressed hard against the ground. And without facing him she can close her eyes and pretend that he's Brittany, though his fingers are not as polished, and they clearly don't know their way.
He pulls her jacket back by the collar, and Santana swears her shoulders almost pop out of place. She sobs, the sudden surrender of her body catching her by surprise. For too long Santana had been fighting to be strong, put up a tough front. Now she's just a little girl crying on the floor.
Sebastian wastes no time. He hikes her dress up just under her chest, runs his hands over her toned stomach. They both lie there, they both imagine the phantoms of other fingers and other bodies.
"Do you like this?" His voice is so quiet, Santana isn't paying attention and she probably drowns it out with her pathetic whimpers. "I said do you like this, you whore?" Sebastian snarls now, yanking hard on the jacket to make her cry out.
"No." Santana stays her ground as best she can, gritting her teeth against the pressure.
"I thought I taught you your lesson before." Sebastian is calm and it infuriates her. All too soon his hand is wrapped around her neck again, pulling her head back. Santana isn't even able to cry anymore, the sounds cutting off to a distressed gargling in her throat. "Say it."
Santana honestly doesn't know what to say, and she's put off by his affinity with their song from earlier. "I don't know." She manages.
Slowly, to prolong her suffering, her head is lowered. Santana takes in a large gulp of air, but the hand does not leave her. She can distinctly hear a fly being lowered and then that hand is removing her underwear down to her knees. Her throat is dry yet she can't stop crying - she chokes, dry retches, and spits out blood on the floor.
"You know, I always wondered how smooth this criminal was if he was leaving blood stains on the carpet." Sebastian said, disconcertingly. "That's the good thing about wood flooring. No stains." It's such a simple sentence that he could be simply discussing the choice of flooring under any other circumstance, the disadvantages of carpet. Or, even, the illogical point of old song lyrics. This could just be a normal conversation, and Santana really wished it was. When it came to Sebastian, she loathed him, but she'd much rather be conversing with him than letting him touch her so.
Without warning he presses into her body. Santana screams now, high but cut off with his hand clenching around her throat. Her body is not designed for this. Whatever sick charade Sebastian is playing, he isn't at all interested in the parts of her that are feminine. In hindsight she shouldn't have expected him to come this far and forget that her unique genitalia disgusts him as much as his manhood does her.
It's dry and rough. He rides her with little concern for her body, and no relief comes from the lubrication of blood. Santana's throat is assaulted as her body is. She aches to cry with every fiber of her being, unable to hold back against the pain and horror of her defilement, but his hand doesn't stray.
It's a constant reminder of how much power he has over her. That hand might as well be the attorney, taking her to court for some made-up felony that Santana knows her family can't afford to fight. Not against a state attorney. It's his body over her, something she's tuned out by now, the ragged, awful thrusts. It's him holding her future over her as if it brings him such great amusement and it probably does.
It's lying there knowing that you're both too alike and that's what hurts most.
As he reaches his peak the hand around her throat stops her breathing entirely. She kicks out her legs in a futile attempt to get him to stop, but it's not working. She tries to break free but he's weighed her down and there's nothing she can do but let the white slowly eat away at the corners of her vision.
Santana may have passed out. When she awakens, coughing hard, he is off her. Her arms are free, numb from their bindings but mobile. His tie sits like the perfect noose around his neck and she thinks of the satisfaction she would gain from drawing it tight and watching his own eyes fall shut. His mouth open on wordless cries and pleas, driven down to his knees and begging.
"You disgust me." Sebastian grabs her arms and yanks her roughly to her feet. They aren't prepared to hold her up and she stumbles. He acts as if he does her a charity by catching her abused body.
Sebastian shakes his head as though dealing with a child. With rough hands he returns her jacket to her shoulders proper, her panties up to hide her shame and the dress down to maintain her modesty - or what modesty remained. Sebastian wipes the back of his hand across her chin, and when he pulls back the fair skin is red. He wipes it off on her jacket.
Outside it is dark and they are able to check themselves against a window, now reflective. Sebastian looks ready to go to school, clothes uncreased by their activities. Santana's eyes are red and puffy, but no one will know outside in the dark. She teeters on her tired legs, but does not outwardly appear how disgusted she is inside.
"I'm going to Harvard Law next year. Play along with this until summer, I'll dump your miserable ass, and we'll see if I can get you a scholarship to anywhere half-decent." Sebastian digs around in his blazer pocket for one second before retrieving Santana's phone. "My number is in there."
She takes it back and pockets it, mind too consumed with the preceding events to care about his pickpocketing. Sebastian takes quick, efficient strides, and is by the door when Santana looks up. "How do I know you're not going to screw me over?" She croaks, her throat parched and sore and likely bruising by now.
Sebastian smirks as if she's played right into his hands. "I said I'd make a girl cry before and I did. I'm a man of my word." And right then Santana realises that she has.
–––
author's notes: smooth criminal made sebtana a top crackship. i went quite dark with this. feedback would be lovely - and i'd like to know where you all want to see me take this. brittana? or keep it some strange sebtana love-hate beast?
