Maybe I Was Just Confused

She couldn't believe it. Standing here, looking up at him with her strong stance and proud posture, she couldn't believe what she was feeling as she stared right into the face of Sebastian Smythe.

She was turned on.

Hard core turned on too, like she hadn't been in a long time. His hot breath panting down onto her cheeks, his body warmth radiating onto her from his where he stood so close to her, and the memory of his hand slowing gliding up her shoulder.

What the fuck? She couldn't be turned on; Sebastian was a boy. AKA, he had a penis. She wasn't attracted to guys, she was a lesbian.

But here she was, staring into his brown eyes and feeling a deep rouse the pit of her stomach. The cellist had left and, for some reason, that made her relieved. She tried to swallow, but noticed her throat was clogged and her mouth was thick with saliva. She needed to get a grip right now before something weird happened. Like following the instincts that seemed to be sprouting out of the pit in her stomach and tried to make her do things she knew couldn't possibly right. Like how she wanted to yank his head down to her an kiss him so hard his lips would be as blue as his balls once she was done with him and then-

"Well then." His words broke off her thoughts and seemed to slow the boil the pit in her stomach had started. She regained all of her composer. She was Santana, a proud, strong, lesbian badass, and this little… thing, wasn't going to throw her off her game.

"Yes, well then," she replied, so relieved her voice came out just as strong she had wanted it to.

She really wasn't sure what to expect after that. Maybe a snarky comment, an insult, some harsh criticism about her singing, another racist remark, anything other than what he did.

He smirked and said: "You're hot."

Her eyes blinked rapidly and she meant to take a step back or slap him or scoff or make some remark, but she just… stood there. Stood in front of him and stared at him like she couldn't comprehend what he was saying because… she couldn't.

Wait, he called her… hot?

Her eyebrow quirked and she did her best to sound bored, "Thought you were a gay prick?"

"Oh, I am," he told, still smirking like an idiot.

Okay, she was so confused. "So what?"

"So, you're hot," he told, still smirking in a way that put the pit of her stomach back to boil and making a sweat break out across her body.

"What are you-." She stopped midsentence. Mostly because she had too, since it's hard to talk when you find a guy suddenly making out with your face.

Wait. Making out. Guy. Face. Stomach boiling over and, and-

Oh, fuck it. She was thinking about this too much.

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips harshly against his. He made a noise deep in the back of his throat that sounded startled and this made her smirk. She had control now, and she had no intention of letting go of it anytime soon. Forget if he was a guy who was suppose to be gay and she was suppose to be lesbian, she was too turned on to care.

She snaked her arms around his neck and entangled her fingers as tight as she could into his hair and pushed him even closer to him. He seemed to be over his surprise, and started to kiss her back, but she was managing to maintain control as she drove her tongue into his mouth. He retaliated by gripping onto her hips and pressing so hard she could feel the bruises coming. She didn't mind, and took the advantage to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist, pulling his hair in the process.

Her control slipped though as she jumped and her mouth ended up moving away from his and she forgot what she was doing and just like that, Sebastian was in control.

His hands moved from clutching her hips to grabbing her ass to hold her up. As he moved forward, finding a wall to push her up against, he moved his mouth across her cheek and lightly bit on her jaw line, loving the feeling of her fingers threaded into his hair. He knew this was a weird situation, much like she did, but unlike Santana, he had decided not to dwell on the intense sexual frustration between them. So what if he was gay and she was a girl? This was just sex, and that was something he was good at.

He nipped down on the area right below her ear, and as he did, he just barely heard the sound of a moan in the back of her throat. His smirk grew. He had to tease her, he just had too.

"You like that?" He did it again.

"Mmm," she noised, clearly trying to hide her pleasure. She tried to distract him, get his attention away from her weak spot. "I… I thought you were gay?"

He didn't stop, and bit there again, this time gaining a full moan. "I am. I thought you were a too?"

"I am," she said definitely, but felt that boil in her stomach just continued to spill over and scald any sense she had left away.

"Then do you want me to stop?" He bit there again, harder and gained another full moan from the Latina.

She tried to clear her head, but her thoughts were foggy and the main thought that kept coursing through was that his body was pushed up so close to hers and she was so turned on she didn't know how she could let him stop.

"No," she finally said, but, in an attempt to sound more in control, she added, "Only once though."

He bit her spot again and whispered into her ear. "Fine, one time."


Four rounds later, Santana laid on top of Sebastian, panting harder than she had after singing with him. He was panting too, with that same damn smirk on his face. They both were finally out of gas after continuously trying to one-up each other, and the end result was both of them naked, at least twenty chairs flipped over, and one of her nails broke and the floor had a scratch.

She pushed herself off of him, looking at him. His hair was a mess (and she guessed a good bunch was missing from her pulling it), he was covered in sweat, and he his lips had a purple hue to them that made her smirk.

"Damn," he said, staring at her. Her hair was much worse than his was, but in a sexier way he was sure, all patted down and sticking up all over the place. She was covered in sweat, and just below her ear he could see the obvious hickey/bite mark he had left. He sighed. "Wish I could smoke. This is a total cigarette moment."

She rolled her eyes and stood up. "Yeah, whatever. Better get over it quick, since I said only one time." She went around the room, trying to find all of her discarded clothes. She thanked her stars again her dad had let her rent the room the whole day. The situation she was in right now would be awkward to explain.

Sebastian sat up, not bothering to cover up himself in the slightest. "Is that what you meant? I thought we tossed out that agreement after you decided to tear the rest of my blazer off."

She paused, and he knew he was right. She quickly shook her head and went back to collecting her clothes, making sure to drop her shoes on all of his belongings. "Well, it doesn't matter. That last time was the just that: the last time. I've got a girlfriend, and you're gay."

He smirked, standing up and going to get himself dressed. "You've got a girlfriend, huh? And do you plan on telling her about our… encounter?" He chuckled and picked up his boxers.

Santana snapped up and walked over to him, now only clad in her under garments. She pointed at him and threatened him quickly, "No. And neither will you, you little Twink. I just got her and if she found out what happened between… us, it would crush her." She glared, hard, and made sure to focus on being angry and tough, just in case.

He just stared right back. "You sure do seem to care about. Well, aside from the whole cheating thing."

Santana froze, the word hitting her like a semi. Cheat. That's what she just did. She cheated on Brittney. With a guy too! A guy who everyone else hated and was standing close to her again and what? Was that the pit in her stomach again? What was going on with her? She thought of Brittney and felt guilt overwhelm her whole being.


She didn't remember doing it, but the next thing she knew Sebastian was facing a different direction and her hand was in the air and stung from the strong contact.

He was stunned, by the smack, the pain, and the sudden thoughts plaguing his brain suddenly. He was here, having sex, with a girl, who liked girls. What the fuck was going on with him? He looked back at Santana, suddenly completely comprehending the situation he had thrown himself into. He had just some of the greatest sex he ever had, but with a girl. And the sex was great. Wish a girl. Who liked girls. What the fuck was going on?

He backed off, and he realized how stupid that was because to her it must have been a sign of submitting. He tried to play it off, but the cocky look in her eyes knew it was too late. "Whatever, I'd gain nothing from breaking you too apart. I'm saving that job for, um, Blaine and Kurt."

"Um"? He was going crazy. It was the only logical explanation behind what was going on his head.

Santana lifted her head, clearly having no intention on commenting on his last statement.. "Whatever, stay away from me and my friends," she told, then went to go get dressed. She tried to hide the heat on her cheeks. Thank gawd she was Latina and blushes didn't show up as quick. She put her dress back on and smoothed out the wrinkles best she could. She put on her shoes and started for the door.

That was till his voice pricked her ears from the other side of the room.


She took a breath, poured ice over the pit in her stomach, and pivoted around, trying to act as nonchalant as possible as she looked to him and said, "What do you want Flat-Face?"

He was dressed now, his blazer and trademark smirk in place at her response and held his hand up. "Forgetting something?" In his hand, he held her hat.

She narrowed her eyes and, as quickly as she could, walked over to him, snatched the hat from his grasp, placed it on her head, before turning and walking out. She did her best through her actions to hide the fact her heart was going 300 miles per hour at the moment.

And Sebastian? Well, he was trying to look cocky as he hid the mixture of confusion, worry, and desire he felt over the girl who strutted out.

He barely caught it before she walked out the door, but he just barely saw her hand go up and stroke the hickey he had left below her ear. His own hand went to his mouth and gingerly touched his bruised lips, just as the door shut.