NOTE: I really don’t know what happened to this. I certainly hadn’t expected to end up with around 3,5K words. /sigh. Anyway, sorry to keep you waiting so long, dear. :/ I also don’t really know whether this would be called a self para or a one-shot, considering the length and the fact that I god modded Santana at some points, but I’m just going to call it a self para.
I might’ve made numerous of mistakes, by the way, since most of it was written past midnight. I’ll just apologize in advance and hope it isn’t too bad.
His apartment was dark when he’d finally managed to drag himself back to his place. The darkness was one of the reasons his feet got stuck behind the table and the couch, making him fall down, almost flat on his face, his hands the only things that protected his face from bruising severely. But in his drunken state, it didn’t come to his mind that a simple flick of a switch would turn on even the smallest light to guide his way over to his bedroom.
Would it have mattered, anyway? He wondered, rubbing the tip of his nose over his arm, still very much splayed across the floor. The floor wasn’t all too comfortable, he decided, but getting up would result quite difficult—it wouldn’t be the first time his legs gave up on him after he’d been downing one beer after another.
Dropping his forehead to his arm, he let out a sigh. He’d get up, no matter how long it’d take him, drag himself to his bedroom and black out once his head hit the pillow. Seemed like a solid plan. If Sebastian would be able to execute the plan, was an entirely different matter. He already knew what was bound to happen. And it wouldn’t be pretty.
First of all; he was pretty sure his legs wouldn’t obey. They never did when he’d consumed as much alcohol as he had tonight. Then there was the problem with the surrounding darkness. He’d already suffered the consequences once or twice in under five minutes, and he was sure he could injure himself even more.
Sebastian wasn’t about to let those small details throw his “briefly” thought out plan out of the window, though. So he hoisted himself up, groaned because his arms could barely support his weight, and somehow managed to stumble his way through the living room, into his bedroom.
Once his knees pressed into the mattress, he turned around and fell backwards. His head didn’t quite reach the pillow, his feet were still dangling over the edge, shoes and jacket still on—yet his eyes closed only mere seconds later as he slipped into a feverish dream.
Graduation night. High-school was over; the only thing that was left for them was the rest of their lives. Some had their future mapped out, some hadn’t. The boy walking up the driveway—hands hidden in his jeans pockets, clothed in a black polo that tightly hugged his body, leather jacket on top, simple jeans underneath, hair in the perfect model, huge smirk present—belonged somewhere right in between those two categories. His parents had carefully laid out his every move for the next oncoming five years. The guy himself, on the other hand? Fucking clueless. He’d follow his parents’ guidance to keep them happy and receive his fair share of money, as to doing what he really loved, there was no way he’d let them interfere with that. Not that he knew what he loved doing. But that was entirely beside the point.
Upon arriving at the door, he slowly pushed it open and stepped in, letting the loud music and the cheerful laughter and chatter sink in before he made his presence known. At first, going to this party seemed like a stupid thing to do, because the party was for both McKinley and Dalton ex-students—an initiative taken by the respective glee clubs from both schools to let the rivalry die down. Sebastian was always in for a party, but there were a lot of people present that he’d pissed off. While he wouldn’t normally care about that, he did tonight.
Was it so much to ask for to have a normal graduation party that didn’t result in him probably getting a nose bleed because some party people wouldn’t be able to control their anger?
Eventually, he’d agreed to come as his friends had tried to convince him with any chance they got. It’d gotten annoying, and the promises of plenty of alcohol had helped, too.
One beer, two Tequilas and a couple of sloppy kisses with random people later, he was seated on a couch in what he reckoned was the living room. His eyes lazily scanned the improvised dance floor, shaking his head every now and then at gross couples making out. One couple definitely stood out, as the two girls—that dancer and the Latina bitch—were heavily sucking each others faces off. The view of the two of them sent shivers down his spine, and he quickly got up, wanting to erase the disgusting spectacle from his mind. When he was the one doing the kissing, everything was fine. When two guys were making out, he could manage. A straight couple was too much, and, evidently, those two were off limits. True, nothing could be more disgusting than the sight of that tall nut head and his Jewish girlfriend, but, because they were nowhere to be seen, the next couple in line were the two in front of him. He reckoned it had something to do with his always present hate for the darker haired girl, as a normal lesbian couple wouldn’t bother him all too much.
Heading over to the kitchen, he was able to make his way through the crowd and ended up with a beer, sitting down on the stairs. It wasn’t that Sebastian wasn’t in for a party, but he really couldn’t be bothered to spend any more time in the presence of any ex-members from New Directions than was strictly necessary.
Ducking his head between his shoulders as he heard approaching footsteps, he tried his best to go unnoticed, hoping whoever was coming his way was drunk enough to not pay attention to him. He did go unnoticed, and that was exactly the reason someone tried to walk right through him and ended up on his lap.
"Watch where the fuck you’re going," he snapped, pushing whatever was crushing him off of him. He stopped trying to do so as he finally recognized his intruder. Oh, wow. Way to ruin his already not so great mood.
"Is there a reason in particular you decided to violate my personal space?" He asked, his raising his eyebrows while pushing her off as fast as he could, annoyance radiating from him like the warmth that radiated from the sun.
Before she could so much as open her mouth and give him a drunk retort—because she was drunk. She reeked of alcohol, and a quick glance at her eyes and seeing the drunk haze in them told him the same—he waved a hand to stop her. “I don’t even want to know. I’d rather you invade your girlfriend’s personal space, instead of mine.”
At the mention of her girlfriend, the Latina glanced over at the dance floor, her brows knitting together.
Sebastian followed her gaze, an amused look spreading across his face as the blond was rocking her hips to the song that was currently blasting through the room, holding hands with that wheelchair guy. As she leaned in to kiss the guy, Sebastian was hit with a wave of inspiration. There were so many mocking comments he could use to slap the raven-haired girl across the face with, it wasn’t even funny anymore. But he refrained as his eyes darted back to the girl, now slumped down two steps down, eyes glued to the pair that was making out. Sebastian had never seen any look on her face that wasn’t annoyance, anger or triumph. But now, she looked almost… hurt.
Right. As if.
"They seem to like each other a lot." He wouldn’t be Sebastian if he wouldn’t say anything about it. As he’d expected, he only got silence in return. She didn’t even seem to have heard a word of what he’d just said.
Turning back once more to watch the two, now engaged in a heavy make-out session, he wondered what he would do if he’d been in the Latina’s position. Seemed like the best joke he’d heard all night. The day he’d be in a relationship was the day the Earth would stop spinning around the sun.
"Try to make her jealous—kiss the first person you run into. I bet she’ll come back to you like she hadn’t just been trying to suck that crippled guy’s face off," he suggested, nodding slowly. If he’d ever find himself in a position like hers, that was what he’d do. There was absolutely no doubt about it.
What he hadn’t expected was how literate she’d take his advice. It was only moments later that he managed to peel her lips off of his, looking at her in shock. “Excuse me?”
The fact that her arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, stopped him from backing away. And even if her arms hadn’t been holding him in place, her eyes would have. Her brown orbs were staring right into his, the look of both desperation and determination making him unable to move away.
If he’d been smart, he would’ve tore his gaze away from hers and left her to deal on her own. She was a big girl, she could manage. But the combination of alcohol and pure boredom got him to close the distance between the two of them, and, soon enough, their lips met again. Reaching one hand up, he placed it on the back of her neck, pulling her as close as he could, his other hand moving down to her side.
Disrupting the kiss because they were both out of breath, he shot her an irritated look as he got up, pulling her up in the process as well. “For the record, I absolutely loathe you.” And his hands were back on her body, one hand trailing down the fabric of her dress and stopping once he’d reached bare skin, the other one cupping her ass and shoving her closer again.
She muttered a response back, telling him she felt the same way about him, her hands tangling in his hair, yanking his head back
Their lips clashed together once again, biting, sucking, tongues battling for dominance.
Without having said a word, Sebastian was leading the two up the stairs, a hand pressed against the wall for support, wrapping his free hand around her waist to haul her up whenever she was being slow.
As soon as they’d managed to climb up the stairs, lips attached along the way, Sebastian reached for the door handle of the most nearby door, almost losing his balance as the girl pushed him up against the half open door.
"Just to be clear, Twink—" Santana began, gripping onto his shirt, trailing off.
He didn’t even let her finish whatever she wanted to be clear about, shutting her up by latching his lips onto her collarbone. Apparently, he hit a sensitive spot, because he was rewarded with a quiet moan, and she seemed to have forgotten what she was about to say. For a moment, all he could do was smirk. It wasn’t every day someone was able to shut her up, after all. But he soon continued kissing—and biting, definitely more biting, though—his way up, lips ending up at her earlobe, tongue lapping over the shell of her ear.
As expected, the Latina soon enough stepped back a bit, keeping him pressed against the wall as she shook her head, seemingly confused by their actions—even though all they’d done was some heated kissing—, “This is only to make Brittany jealous, you jerk. There’s absolutely no way in hell I’m sleeping with you; I’m not that desperate.”
Sebastian cocked an eyebrow, “Seems to me like this would’ve stayed down stairs in plain sight if it was still about making a certain someone jealous. Or is she omnipresent?” Knowing that he’d made his point, he took control and pressed her against the wall, “Now, you can just give in to your needs, and probably not remember a thing in the morning, because you’re clearly drunk, or you can go back down and enjoy that disgusting show your girlfriend and the wheelchair are putting out.”
He pressed his body close to hers, opening her legs with a little help from his knee. “Have you made your decision yet?” he asked, lips moving down to her neck, ghosting over her skin. At the same time, the hand he’d been using to keep her pinned against the wall moved down toward her hipbone, more south until he suddenly found his hand on her inner thigh. Trailing his hand upward—now under her dress—he ended up at the fabric of her panties. Almost completely soaked. As expected. He knew this wouldn’t have happened hadn’t she been drunk, and wasn’t sure if he should’ve praised himself a lucky guy for being the person sitting beside her as she decided to take his advice and attack him in an attempt to get back at her moronic girlfriend. Maybe it was more accurate to call himself an idiot, for doing what he was doing right now.
Suddenly, he wasn’t so much focused on her body anymore; he was too busy wondering what the hell he was doing. Why the fuck it was Santana of all people that he’d dragged into a room. A weak smirk tugged at his lips as he figured out his motives. It was to mock her. It always was. It wasn’t her that got him going, it was the game that had him all worked up. While he should’ve been smacking himself over the head at the fact that it was a girl he was about to undress, all he could think of was how bad he wanted her to scream his name and be highly embarrassed about it.
Finally, her hands locked around his neck, and she yanked his head up by gripping at his hair. “Te odio.*”
"I’ll take that as the all-clear," he muttered, stepping backward and pulling her along to the bed. He just hoped it wouldn’t become obvious how much a foreign language in the bedroom could turn him on.
He pushed her onto the bed, shrugging off his jacket before straddling her and pinning her wrists above her head to the mattress. He couldn’t deny the pure arousal that shot through him as she glared daggers at him, knowing she wanted this as badly as he did at this point. It was probably the combination of pure want and anger, that made him okay with the the familiar tightening of his jeans. Angry sex. The one thing that always got him going, except for the minor and quite crucial—although he chose to ignore that—difference that he had a girl pinned underneath him, rather than a guy.
An angry scowl worked its way up her face, Sebastian actually took his time to admire her facial expression. It was probably because he was a little buzzed by the alcohol that he allowed himself to admit how understandable it was that quite some people favored her looks. Although Sebastian probably had a different reason. It was the anger displayed on her face that he found to be sexy. Realizing it was her behavior toward him that got him going, he suddenly felt okay with the whole situation. He was doing this because he wanted to see her angry. Knowing that the look that was plastered on her face was something he’d caused… That’s why he bothered to waste his precious breath on her whenever she talked to him and hurtful—and amusing—things left her mouth.
It was graduation night, they’d never see each other again after this. He wouldn’t be his gentleman self if he didn’t majorly piss her off just once more. Because she would be pissed alright after he was done with her. She couldn’t not hold any grudge against him after screaming his name at the top of her lungs, rather than her girlfriend’s. Sebastian just knew he’d have her screaming at the end of the night—he didn’t even consider it his cockiness talking. Wasn’t it common knowledge? He knew exactly what to do to turn anyone into a writhing mess. Sebastian had had his fair share of sexual innuendos, he had experience enough to last a life time.
She must’ve noticed he was distracted, because she grabbed the opportunity with both hands and rolled them over. “How about less thinking and more action?”
Although not too happy that he’d let her take control for just a couple of seconds because he had drifted off, he couldn’t agree more. Well, that was definitely the first time that happened. And he wasn’t going to let that happen again. He’d rather put up a constant fight and by default disagree with everything she had to say. Made things more interesting.
He was about to flip them over, but refrained from doing so as it was her turn to attach her lips to his collarbone, thus extracting a gasp from him. Sebastian hadn’t meant to let her know he was enjoying any of it. Sure, he was all for being loud in the bedroom—or wherever a sexual encounter was taking place—but he couldn’t feed her ego. She’d only get more obnoxious than she already was, and that was something he could only endure for so long.
It was only until after he’d sent her toppling over the edge, a scream half muffled as she pressed her face in his shoulder, that he allowed himself to let go, too. After one, two, three, four thrusts, he too came undone, collapsing on top of her as his arms refused to carry his weight any longer.
As both if them lay panting, and she shifted underneath him just a little, he was suddenly painfully aware of what he’d just done. He’d literally slept with the fucking enemy. And he knew right away he hadn’t been able to keep his emotions under control. He hadn’t been… Sebastian. His touch had been too soft, he’d been too gentle with her.
Pulling out of her, he laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Well, in his defense, he hadn’t expected her skin to feel so tender under his touch. She hadn’t met up with his expectations. It was so much worse than whatever he had been preparing for. There’d been no roughness. Not the usual roughness that was present during their normal encounters, anyway. It’d been slow, even though it seemed like only seconds had passed. Sebastian realized he’d wanted it to last longer. Yet it had lasted longer than he was comfortable with—not that he couldn’t manage going about it this long. Please, there was nothing wrong with his stamina. But he couldn’t be around someone for so long in a situation like this. The longer it lasted, the more vulnerable he was and the less he could keep his act up.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn’t how he’d planned his night to pass by. The night should’ve consisted of him drinking, insulting gay face and flirting with Blaine, plus the occasional mild insults he’d casually throw around here and there while getting a drink or bumping into someone. He was sure fucking his female version and not taking the opportunity to shut her up once and for all hadn’t been on his to-do list.
Laying next to him, the girl sat up straight, clutching the sheets to her body to cover her breasts while she shot him a wide eyed look. Sebastian wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught a frightened look. The usual blank expression took over in less than a second, though, and had him question whether his eyes needed to be checked. He’d had imagined it. Probably only saw what was surely shown in his eyes.
Mentally scolding at himself for getting highly off-guard, he gritted his teeth. C’mon, Seb, at least destroy whatever dignity she has left, you owe it to yourself to make sure you did everything possible to ruin her night. Right then and there, he stopped trying to figure out what had happened. It wasn’t like he could change anything. So he’d been more gentle than he wanted. So he’d caressed her skin rather than make sure he left hickeys everywhere—although he was positive he’d left some. Shit happens. Kind of sucked it had to happen while she was there. Kind of sucked she was the fucking reason hell had frozen over.
There was an awkward silence hanging around them, thick as fog. It seemed like she wasn’t about to say anything, nor did it look like she was going to move any time soon. Looked like he was going to have to be the one to do the dirty work. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Managing somewhat of a smirk, he sent her a wink, “Say hi to your girlfriend for me.” It was his way to say ‘hope you had fun screaming out my name, now get the fuck out’, and she seemed to understand perfectly well.
Santana had left the room in about thirty seconds, fully clothed, sending him a look of pure anger as strode out of the room with all the pride she had left.
As soon as he was left alone, he grabbed the pillow next to him and hid his face in it. Realizing too late it was drenched with her scent, he threw it across the room and got up instead, grabbing his clothes, scattered across the room, and dressing himself. He needed at least five minutes to prepare himself and face the people downstairs.
As he made his way down the stairs, he couldn’t help but let out a humorless chuckle. At least she’d screamed out his name. That was something she wouldn’t be able to ever forget.
((* I hate you (in Spanish obviously) ))