Fight Club


A/N: WARNING! Before you begin, I feel I should stress that this story is indeed dark and deals (though mostly indirectly) with various forms of abuse. As always my ability to judge if it will be too much is hampered by me not being every person on the planet. In my opinion this story deals with serious issues as tactfully as possible while giving the matter it's due respect. However it isn't my desire to lure someone into reading this who doesn't want to so if you have a question about my admittedly vague warning you can always PM me for clarification. If the mention of abuse is a trigger, then this story isn't for you.

TL;DR: This story deals with rough subjects, but I don't think it's intolerable.

This fic exists assuming the movie of the same name does not.


"If you could fight anyone, real or fictional, who would it be?" Quinn asked in that know it all way she has. I could tell from her tone that she already knew her answer and was ready to judge mine, but I said the first thing that came to mind anyway.

"My mom," and I would, in a heartbeat… if, you know, I felt like getting laid out on the kitchen floor after inevitably failing to attempt to hit her.

Quinn gave me an appalled look, "Your mom? All of history and fiction at your disposal and you choose your mom?"

I shrugged, "I don't want to fight anyone else. Who would you fight?"

"The Pope," she answered instantly.

It was such a Quinn answer, and the look on her face as she took a drag of her cigarette told me she was picturing it all in her pretty, little head.

I chuckled, taking the cigarette from her and filling my lungs before asking, "Because you're Christian or because I'm Catholic?" She was totally capable of being that petty.

"Neither," she took the cigarette back before I could take a second drag, "I just think it would be awesome to see everyone's face when I drop him."

"What if he drops you?" I laughed.

"Fuck you! If I can't take him down, then I deserve the public ass whopping."

"Hmm, well I guess if we exclude family, I don't know… Justin Bieber?"

Quinn groaned, "Come on, use your brain; he isn't even worth wasting this imagined opportunity on. What about William Shakespeare or Queen Elizabeth?"

"Which one?"

"Either!"

I thought that over, "Nah, beating up old people sounds more like your thing. You sure you don't want to change your answer to your parents?"

She certainly had enough reason to, as shitty as my life was I wouldn't trade with Quinn's for anything.

"Oh my God!" she snapped leaping to her feet from the sidewalk to the pavement of the parking lot, "This is not about parents, Santana, I mean if you could fight one person in all of time and space and have a chance at winning regardless of how big or powerful they are, who would it be?"

I quickly understood that this wasn't going to stop until I gave her a satisfactory answer, so I stopped and gave it some real thought, "Hercules. Taking him down would boost my street cred all the way up."

Like I thought that made her happy and she sat back down, though I think it was mostly because we were sitting in the only available shade while every other area was a hot, little slice of hell in the midday sun.

"Now you're thinking. But he would clean your clock."

"You said I would have a chance, so I assumed this fictional fight came with some upgrades."

"It does, but you still suck at fighting."

My eyebrow quirked up, "Excuse me?" This coming from the girl who had participated in exactly zero fights in the many years I have known her.

"You heard," she said before tossing her cigarette onto the asphalt, standing and stepping back out into the blistering heat.

She stood, just squinting up at the sun for reasons I wouldn't even want to try and figure out. After she had achieved whatever the hell it was that she wanted from that action she looked at me and an all too familiar devilish smile flashed onto her face.

"We have to get back to class, but do you want a quick fuck before that?"

Quinn was the only person who knew I was gay and I think the knowledge gave her some sick sort of pleasure. I don't think she's a lesbian or even bi, I think she likes the control sex gives her and since she is my only chance for real release it's twice as appealing to her to make offers like this. Even though 'quick fuck' usually translates to me going down on her in the janitor's closet, leaving me strung out until she gets around to having mercy after school.

"I dunno, I guess," I said, because I really wasn't in the mood to be teased for the rest of the day.

She gave me a honey-sweet smile and got way too close for a public encounter as she placed her hand inappropriately high on my thigh. Something that was especially so since I was in my Cheerio's uniform.

"I promise to make you come hard."

The thing about Quinn is she is an incredible beauty; her hair, her eyes, her smile, everything about her is gorgeous. She is everything television has ever told me to look for in an attractive female. Well, what it tells males to look for anyway. But I find her beautiful in the same way I find things beautiful, like a painting or a vase, because on the inside she is this incomprehensible jumble of What the Fuck. I never know what's happening in her head, but it always seems to be something evil. However, the beauty of the outside balances out the ugliness within, actually it's more like 60/40 in favor of internal corruption, but whatever it is it's just right to make me accept her offer.

I stand without saying anything, which we both know to be a silent affirmation and start walking back towards the school. We had skipped third period and were going to make it back just in time for lunch, factoring in the quickie of course.

"We should fight," she said suddenly, displaying the unpredictability that was the most interesting and frustrating part of her.

"We always fight."

"No, I mean like fist fight."

"I thought you wanted to punch Gandhi?"

"The Pope, and we both know that isn't going to happen so let's fight each other."

And here she was dangling her fine ass off the crazy tree and asking me to climb up with her, "No, thanks."

"Come on, I think it would be fun. Besides you seem to think the Pope could take me down so what are you so scared of?"

"I'm horny, not angry."

"Bullshit, Lopez, you're always angry."

This was her trying to goad me, and I knew it, but I snapped at her anyway, "I don't want to fight! Keep running your mouth and I won't want to fuck either."

"Liar," she said confidently as she walked in front of me swaying her hips in just the right way and knowing it would keep me following.

I hate her so much sometimes.

When she pulled me into the storage room in the gym I was a little surprised when she made good on her promise and started things off by roughly pulling my spanks down and burying three fingers deep inside me without any warning. I gasped and held onto her as she set the most furious pace she had ever used. It hurt a little, but it felt way better than the unpleasant scrape of her nails on tender flesh. Another first is her looking straight at me during, which is sort of a problem, because I liked it better the other way. She just held me to her, fucking me silly while looking me over with those beautiful, haunting, cryptic eyes.

"Do you think your mother would approve of you dyking out instead of being in class?" she asked suddenly.

What the fuck?

That was weird even for her, we never talk of each other's parents as an unspoken rule and she knew full well my mother would literally lose her mind if she found out, "Shut up." It was all I could say, because I could feel an epic orgasm building and I didn't want to ruin it by trying to figure her shit out.

"I'm surprised she hasn't found out by now, seeing as how I keep sending you home smelling like sex."

I decided from that point on to just ignore her words and concentrate on her fingers, but then she said the only name that could break through my calm.

"Surprised Brittany doesn't know either, especially since you follow her around all the time like a little, lost lesbian puppy trying to get a sniff of her twat."

That was the last straw.

I shoved her off me so hard she stumbled back into a bunch of leftover bikes from a long gone Cheerios performance. For a long time we just stared at each other, her smiling wickedly and me breathing heavily.

She knew I had a ridiculous crush on Brittany Pierce, a girl I had met the year before as a freshman and who had stolen my heart right away. She was the antithesis to Quinn, the literal polar opposite. Where Quinn was a beautiful shell to cover a rotten interior, Brittany was love and innocence wrapped in kindness and compassion. She worked at a local burger place as a waitress, and if I could wish on a star and have the affection of any girl on the planet it would be her. We had spoken before and I had even discretely flirted a few times with positive results, but I was far too much of a coward to ask her out outright. She was a waitress after all and was more than likely being polite for her tip, and seeing how I always gave her more than the total sum of my meal it wasn't only likely, it was damn near factual. I have the worst crush on her obviously but am too scared to ask her to even hang out, my natural proclivity is to assume I will be rejected.

And Quinn knows that.

She also knew better than to mention it. To mention her.

At least she used to.

"Don't be mad, Santana, if she finds out about you and isn't down, I'm always here to give you a pity fuck," she said straightening her shirt and coming towards me again, but I gave her a warning glare and backed up.

However, she seemed to have a death wish as she kept coming, "Are you mad? Want to fight about it?" she asked with an amused smile and then it clicked.

Quinn had never dropped that insane fighting idea, she was still trying to sucker me into it. And though the idea of knocking her face in did appeal at the moment I didn't like playing into her mind games, so I pulled my spanks up, straightened my shirt and burst out of the room to go anywhere else in the world until the lunch bell rang.


"Are you still mad?" Quinn had the audacity to ask me ten minutes later when she found me sitting alone at the far end of the Cheerio's table.

"Yes."

"Wanna fight me?"

Yes. "No."

"Come on, I think we both need it. Hell, I bet half this school needs it."

"No," she pouted and I rolled my eyes, "Go tell Puck to punch you, he's enough of a dick to do it," I said pointing to the meathead in question at the far side of the room.

Quinn looked at him and for a moment seemed to consider the idea then shook her head, "No men, that's the first rule."

"'Cause he'll beat your ass like a red-headed step child."

"Size and muscle aren't everything in a fight, and no that isn't the reason. We need to let out our aggression, our pent up rage at this shithole world and most of that rage is caused by men. So no, I will not ask Noah. What sense would it make to have The Man beat us down literally and figuratively?"

I just cannot stop myself from rolling my eyes again, "Quinn, my problems have nothing to do with men."

"Au contraire, your lack of attraction to men is your whole problem."

"Lower your voice," I growled, even though we were alone and she was already whispering my natural paranoia perceived it as screaming.

"I live in a male-dominated household which makes no sense since my dad is the only male."

"Quinn. I don't want to fight," I said deliberately, hoping she would drop it.

"Fine," she said and I didn't believe for a second that she actually had let it go, but I was glad to get her to shut up about it.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Quinn said softly.

I turned to look and saw Rachel Berry of all people walking through the cafeteria with her head held high and a bounce in her step. God knows why, Quinn made her life hell on earth. Okay, I did too, but because it was the only way to avoid being teased myself. It is literally as primal as having to rip her down so the other bitches know not to mess with me, the Cheerios only respond to survival of the fittest tactics. If I tell them to back off the girl, then they will sense weakness and begin to sniff out my idiosyncrasies and I do not need that.

Quinn's whole demeanor lit up and I could actually see the demon in her stretch its wings. Watching her watch Rachel was always terrifying and it reminded me all over again why I let her be the alpha female in our relationship.

Crossing her would be way too dangerous.

"Ru! RuPaul, over here!" she called loudly, causing almost the whole cafeteria to fall silent, "Tell me, will you ever be coming to school as a man or are you trying to set the record for a drag queen spending the most time as the opposite gender?"

I didn't get it, I mean I get she was calling Rachel a drag queen, but I have no idea who RuPaul is. I bet the other Cheerios don't either, but they laugh uproariously and so does everyone else that had paused in their daily routine to listen.

Rachel goes red, but she never drops her head as she storms off and for a moment I'm so very jealous of her ability to do that. I know how deep Quinn can cut, she instinctually knows your biggest insecurity and strikes to the bone. I couldn't take that day after day and not lock myself in my room to never come out again.

With her gone I turn back to my plate, but a sudden and fast movement next to me draws my attention back to Quinn. She was lumping a bunch of food on her tray in a weird hill, and upon seeing my questioning look she smiled that wicked smile.

"One of her dad's is sick in the hospital, so she's been easier to tease than usual, I bet she's in the bathroom crying right now."

"So?" I asked still looking at her gross mixture of mystery meat brown, grey potatoes, and rock hard peas.

"So I'm going to give her something to really cry about," she said smiling wider before pouring the remainder of her milk on the top of the pile.

I could only watch as she lifted the tray in her hand like a waitress and winked, moving quickly and deftly to follow Rachel and disrupt her private breakdown.

If I were a stronger person I might try to stop her, but then I see the looks of approval coming from the drones in red and white and know that it's pointless to speculate. No one is that strong. It sickens me to know we're all the same, hiding our fear of it being us that she targets behind cold, uncaring eyes.

We suck.

I sigh and empty my tray, because I have lost my appetite.

For the rest of the day I am able to avoid Beelzebub in Blonde until it's time to go home. Since she's the only one with a car I usually ride to and from school with her, as I had this morning. Today I have had just about enough of her, but I know better than to try and avoid her. First of all, it's pointless, she knows where I live and every route I use to get home. Second, if I avoid her she will know exactly how much her behavior today got to me and that is information one should never willingly give Quinn Fabray.

So I meet her by her damn convertible and slide into the passenger's side when it opens.

She didn't say anything once I was in, so I didn't either, until I noticed we weren't headed to my house.

"Where are we going?" I really didn't want to ask, but I couldn't help myself.

"To grab a burger. I'm hungry after I used my lunch to put that hobbit in her place," she smirked as she fished sunglasses out of the middle console and slipped them on. "God, you should have seen it. I was absolutely silent going in that bathroom and right at the height of her bawling I burst the door in and nail her right in her ridiculous nose. We are talking orgasmic levels of satisfaction."

I was glad I couldn't see her eyes, because what was there would have put fear in mine and she would know it.

"That's what she gets, I guess," I said noncommittally.

"Don't be such a buzzkill, it was amazing," she huffed.

I was going to say something a bit more definite until I saw where we were headed.

It was a small diner call Burger Shack that only a few people knew about, because it was so secluded. Their food was excellent and the atmosphere was peaceful and the best thing about the whole place was the service… and all of a sudden I knew where this was truly headed.

And that it was going to be bad.

"You know I think I really should be getting home. I have a lot of homework to do-"

"Fine, I'll get something to go," she said coolly as she parked the car.

"Quinn, I will fuck you 'til you go blind if we can please not go in there," I was begging, it was a mistake and I was fully aware of that, but there were no other options.

I also knew that other's discomfort was more pleasurable to her than orgasms could ever be.

"Will you chillax? I just want a burger."

No, you want to humiliate me in front of the woman I would make my wife in a perfect world.

But I didn't say that. Instead I slid my somber ass out of the car and into the damn Burger Shack.

For a moment, a brief, shimmering moment, I thought she might not be working, but then I heard my name being called from behind me.

"Santana!" came the sweetest voice I had ever heard.

I turned and there was Brittany Pierce walking towards me in that adorable blue and white waitress outfit, her hair up in a ponytail and a coffee pot in one hand. She made old time truck stop waitress look sexy in a serious way.

"Hi, Britt," I wheezed out, because she had literally stolen my air.

She then did something she had never done before which was pull me into a tight, one-armed hug while she balanced the coffee behind her. I automatically returned it, awkwardly pulling us closer together to maximize our contact. It was friend-hug meets lover-who-returned-from-war hug. Then I top the whole horrific spectacle by blushing like a bitch.

"Hiya, Quinn," she added cheerfully to my dark overlord who was watching our exchange with a slight smirk.

"Hey, Britts." The reply was mocking, she used Brittany's same tone of voice without adjusting her features at all.

Of course Brittany was way too sweet to get that she was being made fun of and I wasn't about to point it out, but I did send Quinn a warning glare.

"Have a seat, you know where my section is," she said with a huge smile.

I opened my mouth to oblige, but of course Quinn opened her yap first, "I wish we could, but Santana here has lots of homework, so we can't stay," she said in a wounded tone one might use when breaking bad news to an infant. "I have only come for a burger, with the works, to go."

Even though the order was simple Brittany set the coffee down on the counter and took out her pad and pen to write it down, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Quinn shot me a look, pulling her glasses down to more easily transmit her 'Is she for real?' look. I ignored her and added a milkshake and fries to the order to justify her writing. I don't know why. Maybe because her being at the butt end of Quinn's bullshit bugged me.

"Okay, I'll have that up in a few minutes. Oh, duty calls, gotta go," she said seeing someone waving her down for a refill.

I watched her leave and the moment I turned around I saw Quinn's eyes on me. Actually, I only felt them as they were once again covered by her shades.

"She really is cute. Why don't you go for it? She seems like the type to go for a little carpet munching."

She was testing me again, we both knew why I didn't. She knew I didn't want to ruin things with Brittany and dragging the girl into this was going way, way too far, "Leave her out of this."

"Out of what? I'm just saying it wouldn't be hard to tap that. Just tell her you want to borrow some of her lip gloss right off her lips and work from there."

"Quinn."

"Goodness, Santana, I know you are what you eat, but do you have to be such a pussy?"

The only possible way to survive Quinn was to try and be one step ahead of her game, though it didn't always work I had to try. This time I got it, she was trying to make me angry again. Though at this point it would have given me great pleasure to haul off and hit her, playing into her plans, however immediately satisfying, was always detrimental in the long run.

"I don't care what you think, I'm fine with things as they are."

"Are you?" she asked, her eyebrows appearing from behind her shades. "So, like if some butch trucker chick came in here and looked like she might actually get a taste of her cherry pie, you wouldn't care?"

I would have an absolute meltdown. "She's free to do what she wants."

"So are you, that's my point. No one here knows you or your family. Your parents are almost never home so I would be happy to drive you two back to your place for a little bump and grind."

The sad part, the really extraordinarily pathetic part, was that this sounded good to me and my teenage hormones. Especially watching Brittany's legs pour out of her skirt as she bent across a table to show a customer something on the menu.

I realized that my arousal was showing in my eyes a tick too late, because before I could mask it again Quinn leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "And I have a brand new strap-on in my trunk. I was thinking we might have fun with it, but I'd be willing to let the two of you christen it first."

It was literally impossible not to picture myself strapped up taking Brittany against the table she was now wiping down and Quinn knew it. She knew she had me totally flustered and used my off state to make her next move.

When Brittany heard the bell ring to signal our order was ready she pranced over with our food, smiling brilliantly. Quinn returned the look and moved to accept the food pushing her glasses up on top of her head.

"You know, Brittany, I have been meaning to tell you this, but you are exceptionally beautiful," she said almost casually as she took the food and my shake from her hands, but not before letting her fingers brush Brittany's and linger in a tender way.

Brittany blushed at the compliment, "Thanks, Quinn, so are you."

"But not as pretty as you," she said in that smooth tone before she flicked her glasses back down and handed over a twenty dollar bill for an eight dollar meal, "Keep on being your perfect self."

Then she leaned over and kissed Brittany.

Now, I should point out it realistically was a quick peck on the cheek that could have easily been written off as friendly, however, with me in the middle of my fantasies of claiming the girl she may as well have tongued her tonsils.

She had put me in a disoriented state and made a move meant to infuriate me into action. Honestly, she would have made an excellent ruler in ancient China or something. Her ability to get into other's heads would have made her unstoppable as a wartime ruler. Though in times of peace when she had nowhere else to direct her wrath it was also what would make the people rise up against her tyrannical oppression… so maybe it was better that she was a cheerleader in Ohio.

For a blinding white second I almost punched her square in the face, almost. But then Brittany giggled and placed a hand on my shoulder, "Don't look so upset, Santana, I think you're pretty too."

Only Brittany's words kept me from laying Quinn out on the floor of the Burger Shack and from the disappointment on her face Quinn was aware as well.

With a sigh she gave me the food to carry and marched out the door throwing a, "Later, Brittany. Come on, Santana," over her shoulder.

I followed, but reluctantly, I really wanted to just walk home. The jig was up, she knew she had gotten to me, there was no need to pretend. However, walking away might tempt her to hit me with her car. So I got in and slammed the door shut.

She laughed at my semi-silent outburst, "Don't be mad I got a kiss before you. That's what happens when you wait around with people you like."

"Don't pretend like you are trying to help me! Drop the act, Q, I'm sick of it!"

I turned away from her to try not to focus on the sound of her mind working on how to push me a little further.

Whatever she decided she didn't act on it during the car ride. We made it to my house with neither of us saying a word and when I leapt out of the car and marched to my door, so glad to finally be home, I was surprised to see Quinn had followed me. I shouldn't have been, but I was.

"What?" I snapped knowing exactly what, she wasn't done with me yet.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

I groaned and unlocked my door shoving it open for her to enter. The last time I said no to such a request she put a brick through my living room window and came in anyway. When I tried to explain to my parents that the crazy Fabray girl had done it Quinn had gotten twelve of the Cheerios to lie and say she had been with them all day.

When it came to Quinn sometimes it was easier to give in on some things.

"Almost forgot," she said before returning to the car.

Whatever she forgot I didn't give a shit about so I went upstairs and flopped down on my bed trying to let the stress leak out of my body. As it turned out that was impossible with Quinn in the vicinity.

The girl returned with both our book bags throwing mine on the floor, "Look at you, so eager to study you faggot your bag," she said with a giggle.

I sighed and shrugged, "You're losing your touch."

She sighed as well, "You're right, that was weak. Well, whatever, come here," she said as she flopped next to me with her bag in her hands.

I crawled over as she pulled a big brown box out, usually I would assume it was weed, but if it was she planned to get too baked to move ever again, "Wha-" was all I got out before she opened it and pulled out a large, pink dildo attached to a harness.

My mouth fell open.

Seeing my expression Quinn laughed, "What, you thought I was kidding earlier?"

"Yes," I gulped.

"Come on, get undressed so I can put it on you."

"Why do I have to wear it?" Not really a smart question. It implied I'd rather have the thing used on me and that was definitely not true.

"Because nothing beats a nice, strong cock," she replied, giggling at her own double entendre, "Even a fake one. I like the rod and you like parting lady curtains, it all works out. There is even a part here for your internal pleasure and a little clit stimulation."

As she wiggled the smaller insert at me I tried not to let my trepidation show, but I couldn't tell how well it was working, she was all smiles and they were all genuine. Whether genuinely 'amused' or genuinely 'evil' I couldn't tell.

"How did you even get this?"

"I blackmailed Becky into getting it for me with a picture of her sucking off some boy in the gym."

My mouth fell open again, "How did you get that?"

"Photoshop, and she knows it but she also knows the school would rather see her as a slut than believe the truth," she said it like she was explaining basic math.

This of course begged the question of how Becky got the damn thing, but I figured it was better not to ask, "Whatever, I really do have homework, so you'll just have to work that one solo."

Here's the thing, I was incredibly curious about it and I really did want to use it. Not really on Quinn, but she was the only person offering. Though the earlier fantasy of that thing between Brittany's legs had left my libido revved way up, Quinn's behavior was like a cold shower and when I thought of all the ways she could use this to hurt me in some way I sobered up. Plus, I really did have homework.

I knew when I told her no that I had thrown down the gauntlet. Yes, it was easier to go along with her but this was me choosing my battle. It was a good place to make a stand, she could break into my house if I tried to keep her out, but there wasn't much she could do to make me wear a dildo and go to town on her.

Even she seemed to understand this as she tossed the apparatus back in its box and set it on the nightstand. That was Quinn's way of saying she was relenting for now as it hadn't actually gone back in her bag.

"Fine then," she huffed.

Glad for a break from her constant badgering I went into my book bag and pulled out my chemistry book. I got out my pencil and notebook and had even managed to read the first question of my take-home quiz before music broke through my concentration.

Eyebrow quirked I looked up and saw Quinn looking back swaying slightly with the beat. The radio was playing some sensual tune from the R&B station, a choice clearly meant to get me in the mood. She extended her arms as an obvious invitation for me to join her, I simply shook my head and went back to my work.

I had almost written all of the first answer when she said, "Santana, come dance with me."

"I'm working. You have homework too, you know."

She ignored me and moved closer, her fingers going into my hair and playing with the ends and making the strands dance with her, "Until the end of the song? Please? Then I promise I won't bother you anymore."

I looked up at her, "Really?"

"My word as Head Cheerio."

It's not like I believed her, but this way at least I wasn't guaranteed nonstop harassment until late into the night.

So I set my books aside and let her pull me behind her, Quinn wrapping my arms around her waist. And as she pulled my right hand under her shirt I groaned internally already knowing where this was headed. But she had me dead to rights.

I was sixteen, she was hot as hell and when my hand went under her bra I felt that previously suppressed arousal come back full force. I unintentionally moaned in her ear when she pushed her bottom back into me while bringing my left hand down to the hem of her skirt.

I wanted to pull my hand away, but teenage hormones are an outright bitch and instead of moving back to my homework as the music died I let her push my hand between her legs. When I felt how wet she was I made an almost desperate gasping sound as I pulled us closer and let my lips taste her skin.

And just like that I was back dangling on the end of her puppet strings.

She kept rubbing against me and even let me slip a finger inside her before she twirled magically from our entangled position and back to the bed picking up the brown box. I groaned and gave her an exasperated look and she gave me one that told me it was with the strap on or not at all. Having already been worked up quite severely three times that day, 'not at all' wasn't an option.

I let her buckle me in.

It was weird to watch her with such a serious look on her face as she fiddled with the straps, the dildo dangling in her face with every tug and adjustment. But nothing was funny when she pushed the insert inside me and gave a test tug before pulling the straps taught.

I didn't expect it to feel so good, but it did, it felt damn good and for some reason I felt this was just one more thing about myself to be ashamed of.

Quinn pulled her shirt and skirt off tossing them easily to the floor leaving her underwear for last, pulling them down slowly just to see my reaction. I don't know what I looked like but it must have pleased her, because it took her forever to get her panties off.

I still had my top on but either she wanted it on or didn't care when she pulled me on top of her, "Fuck me hard."

Her voice was full of arousal but was also cold and distant, not that I was going to ask what was wrong. Having never worked with a dildo of any kind I was a little lost as to how to position myself, but then she grabbed hold of it and lined the tip up with her opening. Wasting no time she placed her hands on my hips guiding me in.

She said she wanted it hard, so I didn't waste time going slow, I went at what I felt to be a fast and hard pace, but she seemed dissatisfied as she tugged at my hair.

"Harder," her eyes were almost all pupil and I felt like if I stared into them too deeply I might lose my soul.

I nodded and gripped the sheets as I pumped harder, but that wasn't enough either. Not that she said it, but it was the only reason I can think of that would make her start taunting me.

"Look at you, the perfect little Lima Lesbian fucking a girl in secret with the dick God forgot to give you."

"Shut up," I growled and tried to get lost in the sensations that were pulsing through me.

"Too scared to ask the girl next door out, too scared to even let her know you like her-"

"Shut up!" the shout was accented with a thrust so hard it made her teeth click, it didn't stop her from talking though.

"Kiss me, Santana," my eyes snapped open, because she had never asked me to do that before, "Maybe when you do you'll taste her still on my lips."

She wanted rough, and with that statement I decided she was going to get it.

I did kiss her, but it was more teeth than lips and as I did I moved my hands from the bed to her hips using every last ounce of strength I had to drive us together with bruising force. My anger was only fueled by the fact that I was sure I could taste Brittany on her and all it did was bring back all my self loathing and shame at how right Quinn was.

I pounded her so hard the sound echoed in the room, I pulled her hips up to meet mine with my nails dug so deep into her buttocks I was sure I was breaking the skin. If she wanted rough, if she wanted me unhinged, then she got it. The intensity of it made me come hard and as the feeling made my muscles go rigid I refused to relent and let my pleasure manifest in a deep groan that started somewhere at my toes and traveled my whole body until I swallowed it behind teeth tearing into Quinn's soft lips. I moved even harder and when I felt her orgasm I still didn't slow down, I took everything. I bit her shoulders, breasts, neck anything as I only concerned myself with my own pleasure. The coppery taste of blood was filling my mouth as I kissed her again and with that replacing the mint and cherry flavor I associated with Brittany I was able to let my next orgasm be my last before I collapsed on the bed.

"Fuck college, Santana, you should do that for a living," Quinn panted.

That was a stroke to my ego that I allowed, because after today I had earned it.


When I woke I found that the strap on was gone and Quinn was next to my half naked body, fully dressed and doing her homework.

"Look who decided to wake up," she laughed.

I noticed how swollen her bottom lip was, and there was a little blood at the corner of her mouth. I really did not know how to feel about that until my brain reminded me of how she got that way and it settled on aroused. That made me get up and put clothes on.

Quinn pouted the whole time I got dressed, but I was honestly through with her for the day and wanted her gone.

"Hey, it's getting late, don't you think?" I asked hoping that she, for once, would make things easy for me.

"Yeah, but I told my mom I'd be home late."

"Quinn, I really want to be alone now."

"That'll be hard with your parents here."

My mouth went totally dry.

"What?"

"Your mom and dad, they came home almost an hour ago. Don't worry, I said hi."

My parents are never home. Like never ever home, which is why I can fuck a girl with a strap-on and not even close my bedroom door. To find that they made an unscheduled return is disturbing to say the least.

I immediately ran downstairs, really I did it to prove she was a liar, because there was no way, but when I tramped to the bottom of the stairs and saw them sitting on the couch watching Family Feud I suddenly couldn't remember why I came down.

"Well, hello sleepy head," my mom called over her shoulder, flashing me a smile, "Feeling better?"

I gave a confused stare and my father stood to his full height walking over to give me a once over, "Why didn't you call if you were ill? You know Lenard would have seen you for free at my clinic."

"I-"

"We didn't know what it was. Santana said it was likely a twenty four hour bug, so we decided to wait," Quinn said as she came downstairs as well.

My father looked down at me, "Next time call, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded before turning to go to the kitchen followed by my mother who also stopped to offer an acknowledging nod before moving on.

"Quinn, are you going to stay for dinner?" my mother called from the kitchen.

"I would lo-" I elbowed her in the ribs so hard she winced, "Ow- I mean I would, but I have to get home."

Mom poked her head around the door frame, "Alright then, thanks for taking care of Santana, she can be a bit silly where her health is concerned."

How the fuck would you know?

I made a show of escorting Quinn out the door and closed it firmly behind me before I rounded on her.

"What the fuck, Quinn?"

"What? I had to tell them something to keep them out of your room. Isn't it weird that telling them you were sick kept them out?"

It wasn't really. My parents were both doctors and made a living flying across the country and sometimes the world to perform special surgeries. Or something, I'm not really sure as they have never taken the time to really tell me why it is they can't be home. Their tight schedule means they can't really afford to get sick so whenever I am contact is minimal. On an average day they are usually all hugs and kisses, the gestures seem forced and uncomfortable for them, but they happen.

"It's not and you know it! You didn't have to tell them that, now they'll be avoiding me the whole time they're home!"

"Like you care. I thought you said you wanted to fight your mom anyway."

"It doesn't mean I don't love her too!" I whispered hotly.

"No, I don't think you do. I think you just want her love, that's why you're hiding the whole dyke thing, you think if you pull off straight everything will change. I have news for you, kid, they don't love you, they don't even like you and it has nothing to do with your sexual orientation."

My face was so hot with anger I was pretty sure it was evaporating the tears that were pooling in my eyes, "You don't know anything about them."

She lifted her hands in an exaggerated shrug, "Maybe not, but I know love when I see it and clearly you were meant to stay put with the rest of your siblings in a used condom. Don't get mad because you aren't the only one who can see your parent's don't give a shit about you."

And that was the last straw.

I was on auto pilot as I moved in front of her and punched her as hard as I could in the face. I wasn't thinking about her mind games or how to avoid them or how too cool down. She had flipped a switch and it wasn't turning off.

When she tumbled to the ground I dove on top of her and followed the first strike with three more that made blood explode all over her face. I would have kept going, I would have punched her until I couldn't make a fist anymore, but she was laughing. As blood poured out of her broken nose and lip she was laughing so hard I thought she might choke. And as odd as that was it didn't stop me, what halted my fist mid strike was her eyes; they were insane. She was laughing and I could see pure, undiluted madness swirling in her hazel orbs.


A/N2: Thanks for giving me a chance if you made it this far XP Next chapter should be up relatively soon since its been done for like a year... I would also like to add a disclaimer that I don't necessarily agree with any of the thoughts or actions of any character I write, there will be definitive conclusions made that (IMO) are flat out wrong, but that's life.

I also have known the ending of this story for a long time so don't worry there is an endpoint I am working towards (aimless stories drive me nuts).

And in case you're wondering:

1) I do know the exact reason Quinn does everything she does, I may not reveal them all, but I do know.

2) Everyone actually exist. Quinn is not a figment of Santana's imagination.

3) No one will make soap...

Review if the mood strikes.