AN - So guys this wasn't even supposed to be anything more than a oneshot but I had such a lovely response from the first part and the story just wouldn't get out of my head that I had to write more. I really hope that you enjoy this (and that I don't disappoint anyone) and I just want to say thank you to everyone who alerted, favourited or review this story :) It's really awesome not to be the only one who adores Sebtana.

Sidenote - How freaking awesome was the Michael episode of Glee! So good! And also because I had started this before it aired, the whole Blaine and Santana slushying thing didn't happen, it's AU guys go with it (plus really Sebtana is never going to be canon but we can wish!)

Anyway enjoy! x


Sweat dripping.

Chests heaving.

Fingers clawing.

Brittany hadn't know what was going to hit her when Santana had stormed into her bedroom the next morning, but she soon realised that Santana meant business as she was thrown against a wall and her panties pulled down sharply.

Biting down roughly on the side of the blonde girl's neck, Santana spread her girlfriend open and started to thrust two fingers into her, not bothering to wet them. She hoisted one of the pale legs up around her waist to get a better angle, and yes, she'd found it as Brittany gasped and buried her face into Santana's shoulder.

She hadn't let herself think about last night, even though almost everything was trying to remind her of it, mainly the green towel that she'd dumped carelessly on the floor. She'd showered and dressed in lightning speed and with a quick 'Morning, see you tonight' called in the direction of her parent's in the kitchen, she'd driven over to Brittany's house - not to prove anything because she didn't need to prove to herself that she liked girls, she knew it - because she needed the warmth and comfort of her girlfriend. And maybe a quick morning fuck. But not to prove anything.

"Like this Brit-Brit? Want more?" she whispered against the girl's neck and then quickly clamped her mouth shut. Hadn't that been exactly what Se- no don't even go there.

Luckily Brittany was almost whimpering in assent and Santana dragged them both over to the bed before she could do any more thinking. She straddled her girlfriend, knowing that Brittany loved it when she was a demanding top.

"Want me to strip for you Brit-Brit? Will that make you wet?" she said seductively and unzipped her Cheerio's outfit, pulling it swiftly over her head so that she was in nothing but a red bra and pantie set.

Brittany moaned with longing, "You're so pretty San. Kiss me?"

She didn't need telling twice. Their lips met hungrily and they spent time just kissing and holding each other, hands roaming downwards to cup breasts and squeeze asses. This was where Santana belonged, right here with Brittany, her perfect boobs pressed against hers and warmth and love radiating around them.

She couldn't help but hear the whispering voice in her left ear, "Left the bloodstains on the carpet," and the soft drag of fingertips along her shoulders.

Seductive.

Deadly.

Wrong.

Tearing her panties off, Santana nudged Brittany's legs open and lowered herself between them and began to grind against her, furiously blurring out the memory. Brittany was gasping and writhing beneath her and Santana felt the shocks of desire pulsing through her body.

Nothing could compare to this feeling, being skin to skin with the one person you love, feeling their desire and want around you, against you. Bucking and swearing they thrust together, both trying to make the other reach their climax. A blush crept along Brittany's breastbone and her eyes were half lidded, not even hiding her desire.

Brittany's fingers clawed at her back, clinging on for the love of her own sanity and Santana bit down on her lips to keep from screaming. She was almost there, the burst of happiness just out of reach and Santana growled in frustration.

Harder and faster, but it was elusive and Brittany was gone, arching into the mattress and moaning loudly. Why couldn't Santana come? She needed it. Needed the release.

She looked down at the goddess beneath her and usually that would do it, the sight of her gorgeous girlfriend post orgasm was one of the most beautiful sights Santana had ever seen, it filled her with longing and sent her screaming in ecstasy.

But not today.

"It's because you don't want to think about her." came the snarky, smarmy voice in her ear, "You want to think about me. Plunging my cock into you until you're unable to scream anything but my name."

No. No she didn't. She wanted Brittany. Sweet, soft, loving Brittany.

"Hard, furious, sweating."

No.

"Say it."

"No." she whimpered, unable to contain herself.

"Say it. Say my name."

"No." she said it louder fighting against it and pounding against Brittany as if her life depended on it.

"Say my name. And you'll get what you want"

She wasn't thinking about him. She wasn't.

"Come for me. Come for me Satan. Sebastian."

Dark eyes, succulent lips, body lithe and tall. It consumed her.

"Sebastian..." she whispered and came, longer and harder than any time before, shaking and covered in sweat.

She lay there, just willing her heart to stop beating so fast and wanting the bed to swallow her up whole because unless she was very much mistaken, she'd just said another person's name during sex. And that was one of the biggest no-no's of a relationship.

She didn't want to hide from Brittany, they had been through too much for Santana to treat her like she was an idiot, she wouldn't treat her like the rest of the world did. Looking up, she stared into Brittany's curious face waiting for the accusation and anger to cross it. It was what she deserved, deserved to be shouted at. She didn't deserve Brittany.

"When did you go to the zoo?" she asked quietly.

What? Out of everything she'd expected this had to be the furthest from it. The zoo? What was she talking about?

Santana crooked her head to the side and sat up, "What?"

"You said Sebastian. Doesn't that mean that you went to the zoo? And saw the crabs? Like in the film we watched at Blaine's." She stated it plainly, as if it was the only option for the slip up in names.

Bewildered, Santana realised that she thought she was talking about the stupid singing crab from 'The Little Mermaid' and groaned. Why couldn't Brittany just get this one thing? She should feel relieved that Brittany hadn't picked up on what was really going – not that anything was – but she didn't. Guilt was still teeming through her and she wanted to be reprimanded for her fault.

"No Brittany I have-"

"BRITTANY! LORD TUBBINGTON IS EATING MRS HOGARTH'S VEGETABLES AGAIN!" Screeched up Brittany's mother and Brittany just shrugged her shoulder's in apology and slipped out of the room, leaving Santana sitting on her bed alone clad only in a red bra.

She had to tell Brittany the truth. She couldn't keep it from her. She'd came thinking about someone else. A guy. But how? That had never happened before, it had always been the thought of the girl's getting themselves off in the porn she watched that sent her over the edge even when she'd been with most of the male population at McKinley. So why now? Now, when she was in a happy relationship with the girl of her dreams.

Sebastian meant nothing. She had to keep telling herself it, and maybe she would start to believe it. She didn't have to worry Brittany and ruin the one perfect thing in her life over something silly and inconsequential. It meant nothing, she was still tired.

It meant nothing.

"Stop kidding yourself." Murmured the voice in her mind. She told it to shut up as she pulled her panties back on.

….

He was bored.

Not that it was a first time experience for him, he'd been bored plenty of times before. Like when his mother insisted on have a sit down meal with his great aunt's that seemed to be older than half of the disgusting heirloom's his mother kept in the attic. Or when they had done plant life and technology in Biology. That had been a bitch.

But he'd never been bored when being on the receiving end of a blowjob before. Sure he'd maybe misjudged the attractiveness of the person and had to grit his teeth and bare it once or twice, or remind said person to mind their teeth, but he'd never been flat out disinterested. And he was now.

The guy on his knee's was clearly enjoying himself, or at least trying to make it seem like he was enjoying it so that Sebastian could get off faster. That didn't look like it was going to happen. He was hard, so very hard - it was his Thursday morning blowjob after all. He didn't really even remember how they had become a thing: one morning he'd asked a guy passing his room for a hand with putting up selves and the next thing his warm mouth was around him. It had stuck.

He still didn't even know the guys name. And he couldn't bring himself to care.

There was nothing about it that was exciting and that was the sucker – pardon the pun – he wasn't interested in it anymore, it was a routine, old, practiced. Like marriage.

The guy looked up and Sebastian locked eyes with deep blue one's almost hidden under wavy blonde hair. Not right. The eyes should be darker, with a slight curve on the inside, the hair longer and falling around shoulders.

It should be her.

He just couldn't get her out of his head. Those last texts last night has been petty and he had fallen asleep wrapped in images of her glinting smirk and her fingers trailing down his body. It wasn't real, like the incessant sucking on his dick, but it was what he wanted.

"Stop. For the love of blowjob's everywhere just stop." He snapped in a downwards direction and pulled away, pulling up his boxers half disgusted with himself.

The guy looked forlorn and a little hurt, "Did I do something wrong?"

He didn't have the energy or the brain space to think about some guy who couldn't even give a decent blowjob, "Yes. The scent of your clearly out of date after-shave is making me nauseous. Get out." He struggled to keep his temper under control.

Fury had suddenly taken over his body: anger over being unable to get what he wants, frustration at wanting someone that clearly didn't want him, confusion over who and what he was and concern that he was going out of his mind.

He didn't move and Sebastian turned on him, eye's blazing, "Get the fuck out of my room." He snarled and thank god the guy had the sense to go.

Sebastian just wanted to scream. He felt like his brain was trying to flip itself over inside his skull.

Was he actually gay? He had always just assumed that because he liked cock and though guys were delicious that he was gay. It wasn't really something he'd thought about, girls just didn't interest him.

Santana did though. All hard edges and snarkiness. If she had been a guy there would have been no problem. It was just that one genital flaw. He conjured up the image of a pussy, one from the straight porn he'd started out on, and it almost made him lose his hard on. Nope. It did nothing for him – the guy however did.

Then the thought about Santana, the longing he felt for her. Would her pussy be so bad?

But did he long for sex? Or did he long to control her, the one person he hadn't managed to. He'd wanted to control Kurt but hadn't wanted anything to do with the creamed-up diva. What did he want?

A large brandy to numb his whirring head.

He had Warbler rehearsal in thirty minutes and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Who'd have thought, Sebastian Smythe mind-boggled over a girl.

His phone bleeped innocently from under his pillows, where he'd tossed it last night.

From Santana: Tonight. 7pm. Parking lot. We need to talk.

His first reaction was one of great relief followed by dread and then a mixture of excitement and confusion.

Really from that he should have just put his phone down and forgotten about the Lima temptress.

And he should really get a hand that followed his brain's instructions.

From Sebastian: Wear the cheerleading outfit and I just might.

From Santana: Fuck you Smythe.

From Sebastian: I thought that was the plan?

From Santana: We're talking.

From Sebastian: Since it's you I might just turn up.

From Sebastian: Maybe.

From Santana: I'm not wearing panties. I'll keep them off if you come.

From Sebastian: Deal.

From Sebastian: Coming can be desert.

From Santana: I'll bring cupcakes because I really don't fancy what you're bringing.

From Sebastian: We'll see.

From Santana: We will.

Rachel was laughing loudly at some story that Finn was telling her while the rest of the club began to file into the choir room. Santana was towed in by Brittany, who had been brightly bubbling about the treasure Lord Tubbington had found in the vegetable patch for the entire drive to school and Santana didn't have the heart to ask her to stop. She was churning with doubt and guilt, although, she scolded herself, she had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn't done anything.

Yet.

Kurt brought her attention back into the room, "Hey, Santana? How'd it go with meerkat face yesterday? Smite him down with your vicious words?" Every pair of eyes were trained on her expectantly, knowing that whatever had happened would've been a bloodbath.

She wanted to hit him. The last thing she needed is for the entire club to start discussing Dalton and Sebastian. This was not the time.

"Did you visit the meerkats too San? Why didn't you take me with you?" Brittany chirped in, nudging her indignantly with her elbow.

Confusion crossed Kurt's face, "Brittany what are you talking about?"

She turned to him, a smile playing on her lips as if Kurt was being silly, "Santana went to the zoo yesterday. She visited Sebastian the crab, like in that movie where the girl had fish for feet."

Stunned silence met her words. After Santa Claus and Rory the Leprechaun, this had to be one of Brittany's finest misunderstandings.

It was Berry that broke the silence, "Santana didn't you go to Dalton yesterday? To give Sebastian a piece of your mind about stealing the Michael songs for Regional's."

"And your right hook." Puck added in unhelpfully, and Santana just wanted them all to disappear.

She should have told Brittany, she shouldn't have lied. How the hell was she going to explain this?

Brittany stared at her, not knowing what to believe and when Santana saw the hurt rising in her eyes she couldn't lie anymore, "Well thank you everyone for being denser than the godforsaken air that keeps Berry alive and pissing me off more than the time Puck decided that chap-stick was a suitable replacement for lube." Protests swarmed around her but she wasn't in the mood to listen, "Brit, I did go to Dalton yesterday to see that guy Sebastian, you know the one with the flick." She motioned her hands up in the air.

Santana could almost hear the click of the light bulb turning on in her mind. "Sebastian...Why did you say his name this morning?" she asked quietly, brushing away the hand that Santana was frantically trying to hold.

"I...I don't know." She answered honestly, because really she'd gotten into this mess by lying.

Brittany just stared at her. In their many years of friendship, Santana had done some terrible things, things that maybe only Brittany had ever forgiven her for and Santana had always known that there would be a safe and understanding pair of arms to hold her when everything went wrong. But now, the look that was on Brittany's face was one that she had never seen before: betrayal. Those arms were being snatched away just as quickly as the tears were beginning to pool in the corners of her eyes.

"How could you do that Santana?" she asked, her big blue eyes boring down on her. It was the use of her full name that did it, made her snap.

"I didn't do anything." She snapped and pulled herself out of her seat, ready to storm out instead of causing Brittany any more pain.

"You said his name."

"I didn't mean to."

"But you still said it. Which means that you must have been thinking about him. And I was only thinking of you."

She was right and Santana knew it. This was what she wanted, right? To be shouted at. Suddenly Santana couldn't take it, didn't want to stand and listen to Brittany scold her for doing nothing. She hadn't cheated. And she had bigger problems to figure out, like why the hell she had said Sebastian's name.

Remembering why she'd been so angry last night brought her and Brittany's conversation back to mind and Santana found a way to turn the blame from herself, "You weren't thinking about me last night though were you? All cuddled up with Rolls Royce over there."

Their voices were reaching shouting levels and you could have cut the tension in the room with a blunt spoon as the other members watched the argument unfold. Some of them must have some idea of what was going on, others simply just having two words flashing in their mind: CAT FIGHT.

Santana didn't know why she was saying this and immediately felt guilt for accusing Brittany, but the other girl blushed and she wondered if maybe she'd hit the nail on the head. But now wasn't the time or the place to hash it out. It felt like the air around her was thickening, she had to get out.

Brittany was watching her again, waiting for her next move even though it was she that should be angry, and Santana just sighed and said softly, "We can't do this now Brit."

She nodded in assent and then quickly faced the front of the classroom as Mr Schue blew into the room, late as usual. Santana quickly grabbed a seat in the back row before he began speaking about some inane task for the rest of the week.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Brittany was supposed to be deliriously happy and in love and Santana was supposed to make her feel that way, not make her look like she'd been kicked in the gut and hit across the head.

Was she good enough for Brittany?

A little voice in the back of her mind answered.

It wasn't just Sebastian that disagreed.

From Sebastian: Daydreaming about me yet?

From Santana: Unless you are the symbolistic features of the paper lantern in 'A Streetcar Name Desire', then no.

From Sebastian: Stuck in English huh? Bummer.

From Santana: Thought that was your nickname.

From Santana: Just saw some girl making googly eyes at the stuffed animal her boyfriend gave her at their lunch table. The animal reminded me of you.

From Sebastian: A flawless masterpiece of divine measures?

From Santana: No.

From Santana: A hog.

From Sebastian: Takes one to know one.

"Santana what are you doing?" Quinn asked her, leaning in to speak in her ear as the Sue blew her whistle to call for their last period gym class to come to an end.

Santana looked at her confused and Quinn tutted, hooking her arm around the brunette's and dragging her to one of Santana's favorite places: the girls locker room.

"What are you talking about Fabray?"

"Texting him."

"Him who?"

"Sebastian. Don't act dumb, I've seen his name flash up on your phone about fifty times today – and that's just the ones from after lunch." Quinn was struggling to get her shoes off and missed the look of panic on Santana's face.

Offensive mode Santana, tell her to mind her own damn business.

"Nothing that ex-preggers-psycho-pants needs to care about." She smiled innocently and almost thought she was getting away with it.

Quinn scrutinized her, trying to figure out with angle the girl was playing, "Just don't hurt Brittany okay. I don't care what shit you have with that Warbler but don't hurt her."

Like that's what I'm trying to do.

At every turn there was a reason to just stop whatever she and Sebastian were doing. They shouldn't be talking, they were supposed to hate each other. She did hate him, didn't she? But the reasons for that were slowing drying up as she texted him. He actually seemed human.

And fuckable.

No. Not fuckable. You're gay.

She looked around at the semi naked girls around her and it confirmed it. So where did Sebastian fit. Her phone bleeped and Quinn rolled her eyes at the name but said nothing.

From Sebastian: See you soon ;)

She chewed her lip as her fingers hovered over the keys. She shouldn't. But if she ever wanted to find out why she couldn't stop thinking about the Warbler, she was going to have to go. This wasn't hurting Brittany, this was helping Santana.

She'd always been taught to help herself first.

From Santana: Me in real life…in a few hours. Me in your mind…a few seconds.

She was going to gnaw her bottom lip off – even though she told herself there was nothing to be nervous about. This was just to show herself that she felt nothing for him. He meant nothing.

He was also late and it frustrated Santana to no end that he had the audacity to even be late. No one stands up Santana Lopez. No one.

"Afraid I was standing you up?" came a voice from behind her and it took all of her resolve not to jump in fright. Instead she put on her best bitch face and turned to face him.

"Like you'd even dare."

He was wearing dark denim jeans and a skin tight red shirt, a jacket hung uselessly from his arm. His face, still half obscured in the darkness, looked exactly like it had yesterday, but had his eyes had that bright green fleck through them? Or his lips been that red?

It hit her.

She wanted him. It doesn't matter that he's a guy. It's got nothing to do with that.

Everyone puts so much emphasis on what it is that you like – everyone was obsessed categories. Not a lot of people understand that you can't help who you want. If a person sees a shirt that they want, they'll buy it, it doesn't matter what shop it came from. It's the same with people. It doesn't matter what they have, it's who they are that counts.

Santana knows that she likes girls and wants to fuck them and have relationships with them. But can she really stand there and deny the attraction she feels towards Sebastian? She wasn't raised to be an idiot.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about? Because if you're just going to stand there, I have other things that I can be getting too."

He was lying. He had nowhere to be. And even if he did, he wouldn't go. It was taking every ounce of his strength and pride not to pull the girl towards him and kiss her senseless. She was stunning, purely and utterly gorgeous. He wasn't eloquent and the words that came up in his mind were never going to be good enough for her.

But he was pretty sure that no one had ever had hair that beautiful.

He didn't even stop to worry about wanting her. It wasn't his decision anymore. He wanted to fuck her. Maybe just to control her, but mostly because he wanted to.

And, being one that had never denied himself the things in life he wanted, he wasn't about to start now.

She was smirking at him, but her eyes were wide as if she was thinking the same as him. "What? Got a mani-pedi appointment to fix those jaggy, hurty nails of yours?" She said in a babying tone, mocking him to his face. It was different than through texts, the insults sunk in more when he could see how her lips shaped the words and how her tongue flicked against her teeth as she spoke.

How would that tongue feel against–

Don't loose your cool now Sebastian.

"I suppose I'll see you there, getting those rats that you're trying to pass off as eyebrows waxed."

"You just like the idea of me being in pain you little psycho now don't you?"

"One of several idea's I've had about you. Most of them end up with you screaming."

"You're the one screaming Smythe."

And there it was. Stalemate. They both knew that what they wanted went against what the other had come to realise about themselves. Could they really go against that? For a fuck?

Sebastian took a step towards her and caught her hand, bring it up to rest on his shoulder, while his other arm wrapped around her waist. She didn't try to stop him, breathing in shallow, almost frightened breaths. He smirked at that: he'd made her nervous.

"Scared Satan?" he murmured quietly, his nickname for her falling easily off his tongue, even though the parking lot was deserted and there was no one to overhear them. He didn't exactly want their first fuck to be in a dirty lot but what other choice did he have? Take her back to Dalton?

And did he just say first?

There was only going to be one time. Sebastian Smythe never fucks the same thing twice.

Being that close to her made her scent wash over him and it was better than he had imagined, even down to the quick thudding of her heart against his chest. He breathed in, burrowing deeply into that mane of hair.

Heaven.

She struggled to form the words, "Of you? You're less scary than Tina when she has one of her breakdowns." Managing to keep from stuttering, she yanked the hair at the back of his head and was proud of herself when he moaned softly.

They stared at each other, neither one trying to hide their lust. They were still trying to pretend that they hated each other, but it wasn't fooling anyone.

Lips parted.

Breath hitched.

Brown eyes getting lost in grey/green seas.

"I'm a slave 4 U, I can not hold it, I can not control it…"

Brittany's ringtone spewed out from her cell in her pocket and the pair snapped out of their trance. Sebastian almost looked angry but it cleared from his face and he became the indifferent asshole that Santana had first met. She pulled away from him sheepishly.

What the hell had she been thinking? She wasn't a cheater - any more, she added onto the end of that thought. And not on Brittany. Texts and angry duets were one thing, almost kissing someone was a completely different story. No matter how she felt about Sebastian, she was in a relationship, and she wouldn't hurt Brittany this way.

"Brittany?"

"No, it's Artie. Santana, you need to get to the hospital. Brittany's had an accident."


Let me know what you thought :)x