[fanfiction] Key Unit
It's still Wednesday.
Fandom/Pairings: High School Musical; Ryan/Jason, Sharpay
Rating: R because I tried to write porn.
Pre-Notes: For my un_love_you claim on Ryan Evans. So I have this strange fascination with Ryan Evans fucking the basketball team. Or, rather, Ryan Evans being that guy everyone warns people to stay away from.
Disclaimer: Well, if I did own it I'm thinking millions of children would have had a vastly different childhood experience with it.
Summary: Isolating the key unit always made things go quicker.
----Key Unit
“Take my hand, take a breath.”
In the grand scheme of things, Jason is just a small blip on Ryan's radar. He isn't particularly attractive, he isn't particularly popular, he isn't particularly good-he isn't particularly anything, really. Except maybe a little slow-which isn't a compliment ever and while Ryan Evans is many many things, mean is something he generally tries not to be.
At any rate, Jason is the one staring at him in math class anyway. And Ryan knows he's got a great ass, but seriously. Either Jason is very badly closeted or just easily awed by shiny things-which is what makes him such a great candidate for seducing in order to prove a point. Sure, Ryan tried not to be mean but there was a time and place for everything and it wasn't like he'd be breaking Jason's heart or anything. He just wanted the guy to fuck him so Sharpay would shut her trap and he could prove that yes. Someone from the basketball team would fuck him.
Jason just happened to be the easiest target. In the very very back of his mind, Ryan is sorry for that but not really. He is, after all, a great fuck. The drama club would be happy to confirm that fact for the basketball team, but that's not the point. The point is that even though Ryan should probably feel bad for seducing (allegedly) straight boys into his bed, he doesn't because he knows that he is a great fuck with the added bonus of not being clingy or wanting more. Backstage sex, closet blowjobs, bathroom trysts and behind the bleachers were sort of par for the course in Ryan's book. He wasn't a whore-there was much more class and poise to what Ryan Evans was. He was highly selective and critical about who he slept with and what offers he accepted-even more so for the offers he made.
So, if Ryan has to admit it, Jason is a rather large departure from his usual standards. That's okay though because he's really just doing it to prove a point. Nothing more, nothing less.
If a hundred and sixty dollars for a particularly amazing pair of black skinny jeans wasn't “more,” of course. The jeans were worth every penny in Ryan's opinion, so he didn't actually consider them anything less than absolutely necessary. Especially if they got everyone to stare at him like that. Especially especially if they got Jason to stare like that. It was all happening according to script, which was a good thing. Ryan hated when things didn't happen according to script.
Jason is staring. Ryan chews on his lower lip prettily (deliberately) and works on the math problem, trying very hard to make glaring mistakes. Jason leans over.
“Dude, that's totally wrong. Aren't you supposed to be good at math?”
“I just,” Ryan sighs dramatically, “this section doesn't make sense to me.”
The eyeliner really only made his eyes looker bigger as he looked pleadingly toward Jason. Jason swallows and inwardly, Ryan thinks that this was just all too easy jocks can't keep it in their pants ever god. No wonder cheerleaders are always getting some and they never shut up about it-they couldn't shut up about it if Jason was any indication. Jocks just fell into people's laps.
And people called him a whore? Bullshit.
“I could, uh, tutor you.”
A small part of Ryan wants to bang his head on the desk, but instead he smiles brightly (fake-ly) and looks up at Jason.
“Sweetie, that would be fabulous.”
Jason coughs, like he's got something mysterious in his throat, and Ryan smirks inwardly. He really kind of hates jocks. They're so easy to snare-like stupid little lemmings or mindless ants-and there is absolutely no challenge in that. What had Sharpay even been thinking? If the basketball team wouldn’t sleep with him then inversely, they wouldn’t sleep with her. She was, after all, far scarier and less likely to actually take her partner’s pleasure into consideration.
But Ryan doesn’t want to think about Sharpay because the point is he just got a basketball player promising to be two steps from his bed in a little less than five minutes. Jason makes good on his promise too-he shows up exactly on time and Ryan is pleasantly surprised. He doesn't think very highly of jocks, but he doesn't mind when they exceeded his expectations.
They sit down at the low table in Ryan’s room-mostly because Ryan likes being in his room more than anywhere else in the house, but also because if Jason is going to fuck him, then Ryan wants privacy. Much as Ryan is an exhibitionist sometimes, he doesn't want to scare Jason off and he doesn't want Sharpay to walk in. Sharpay makes hard-ons wither.
In the quiet that follows, Ryan works on a math problem. He gets it wrong and Jason corrects him gently. For a jock, Jason is actually very good at math. Inwardly, Ryan wonders how because Jason spends most math classes staring at him. If Ryan had to calculate, he’d say Jason spent about 65% of math class staring. As Jason leans in, Ryan did too-they bumped foreheads. Ryan apologises in an extremely girly and sweet manner. Jason blushes.
For a while, nothing really happens. It's slightly frustrating, because Ryan can't tell if it Jason’s stupidity or the math homework is what's cockblocking them. It turns out to be duty.
They finish the homework assignment-Jason is very thorough and calm and if Ryan actually needed a tutor, he would pick Jason. Slowly, they pack up. Ryan put his pencils away and-honestly, it's an accident-drops them. He bends down to pick them up and at the same time, Jason does too. They reach for the same pencil and their fingers touch. Ryan half expects Jason to pull away as if he’d been burned, but instead Jason laces his fingers with Ryan’s and smiles sheepishly.
Ryan smiles back and presses his lips lightly to Jason’s. It's a sweet kiss, not wholly unexpected and quite a bit nicer than some kisses he’d had. There is Jason’s hand on his hip and their fingers laced together and Sharpay isn’t home for at least another half hour. Plenty of time, which is probably why Ryan somehow crawls into Jason's lap with a hand pressed into the back of his neck and is kissing him desperately. It isn't acting, though Ryan might say so later. Ryan is very, very good at being in denial about everything except the things most people are in denial about.
Their hands are still linked. Jason moves his hand from Ryan’s hip to unbutton Ryan’s shirt. It’s awkward and hard to do with only one hand, so Ryan reluctantly pulls his hand from Jason’s (there’s too much familiarity in that anyway) and helps undo his shirt. It gets tossed somewhere and Jason’s shirt follows it soon after. For a moment, Ryan appreciates the bare skin in front of him before putting his hands on Jason’s hips and placing a kiss over Jason’s heart. It’s an action as predatory as any mark and Ryan likes the feel of a heartbeat across his lips. There’s something almost poetic in that-it fits into the rhythm they’re falling into, Ryan thinks as he slowly undoes Jason’s pants. Jason is pulling him back up for a kiss and Ryan obliges because he’s never one to refuse kisses-unless there is a pressing reason to do so.
He refuses kisses from the boys who don’t have impeccable oral hygiene, he refuses kisses from the ones he kind of hates and he refuses kisses from the ones that smoke anything. It’s a simple rule of conduct, but it’s part of what’s gotten him so far without trouble.
Not that he couldn’t handle the trouble, because Ryan could. He just preferred to avoid it because it was bothersome. Unlike Jason’s hands on his hips, undoing the zipper slowly slowly if he had known about Jason earlier god he would have sought him out earlier.
The closeted ones, Ryan has found, need a certain amount of dominance over the situation. So Ryan doesn’t tell Jason what to do, but he thinks that Jason doesn’t need it anyway. Jason isn’t that closeted and he must have done this before because ah-more more harder faster please.
A moan spills from Ryan’s lips-he’s vocal and that really isn’t a surprise to Jason. Or (if it is a surprise) it doesn’t register in his face, but either way it’s okay. It’s really okay. Ryan still has to stop him though and Jason looks at him questioningly before Ryan stands to shimmy out of his pants and underwear. Jason does the same, catching the hint, while Ryan ducks under his bed for a plastic box containing condoms and lube. It also contains a secondary stash of cookies and a cellphone charger, but those are unimportant. Ryan motions for Jason to come over-largely because if there is a bed, they might as well use it.
Jason follows direction remarkably well-he complies without question, sitting on the bed hesitantly. Ryan is still on his knees, and he pushes apart Jason’s legs with a trademark Evans smirk before lowering his head to press fluttering kisses along Jason’s inner thigh. He’s a fucking tease, but only when he doesn’t want something to end. And, for reasons unknown to even himself, he doesn’t want this to end. He really doesn’t.
But he knows there is only so far you can push it, so he gets to his actual task fairly quickly. Ryan locks eyes with Jason before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the tip of Jason's dick before swallowing the majority of it. Gag reflex is a bitch and Ryan doesn't want to fall prey to it-nothing is as unsexy as a blowjob interrupted because of gag reflex (except maybe Sharpay walking in). Ryan hums as he relishes the feeling of Jason hardening and filling his mouth better. For some reason, Ryan is immensely fond of using his mouth. It pulls the most delicious noises out of people and Ryan collects those noises like some people collect stamps or shot glasses.
There's a hand tugging him away though and Ryan almost whines, but before he can Jason tugs him up for a kiss. Fumbling slightly, Ryan rips open a foil packet and rolls the condom down Jason's cock. Let it never be said that Ryan Evans doesn't care about safe sex because for all the sex he's had, all of it has been safe. Mostly. Jason takes note and almost seems like he wants to ask, but he doesn't and Ryan is grateful for that. Without missing a beat, Ryan presses the lube into Jason's hand and leans forward to whisper into his ear-low and full of lust.
“Fuck me, darling.”
For a moment, Jason just looks at Ryan with an expression that screams “what am I doing?!” and deep confusion. Luckily, it passes quickly and Jason is lubing his fingers. Ryan considers this carefully before Jason is pushing a finger into him and he can't consider much at all. It isn't that Ryan hasn't done this before-no, the Drama Club had taken care of Ryan's virginity quite nicely-but more that Jason keeps surprising him. Keeps making him want more.
And maybe there will be more. The important thing that second, though, is now. Because now Jason is stretching him. Because now Jason is sucking at the junction between his neck and shoulder. Because now Ryan is pretty damn sure that East High has a lot more secrets than he thought. Because now Ryan can't even pretend he's putting on an act. He wants this. He wants Jason.
Almost as if Jason is reading his mind, he removes the fingers and slicks the condom with the remaining lube plus some extra. Ryan lifts his hips slightly and Jason stops for an almost imperceptible moment before pushing in smoothly. Jason doesn't move immediately, looking at Ryan for some sort of signal. Ryan pulls Jason down for a kiss.
They move-and this, this is what Ryan likes best. It isn't the best fuck he's had, but it's the best one in a while. Maybe because it's . . . It isn't rushed or frantic like some of what Ryan's done. No-this is sweet and caring. Jason is planting light, fluttery kisses along Ryan's. It's weird. No one has done that for him before, but he thinks he likes it. With the one tiny section of his brain that is still thinking clearly, Ryan wonders if this is what “making love” is like. He thinks that yes, it is and that's really all he has the time for because Jason is a miracle. Ryan is bucking into the hand around him and just feeling. There isn't much space for anything else but the touch of skin to skin, the taste of skin to lips, the sound of lips to ear, the sight of ear to heart and the smell of sex.
The sensory overload does Ryan in and he recognises the crescendo of their music as the beginning of the end. Jason does something with his hand and then Ryan is seeing stars. He's pretty sure Jason is seeing stars too-maybe not exactly the same stars, but stars nonetheless. Ryan doesn't mind if they're not the same stars, because he's not the kind of person who gets into sappy romantic things like that. Love is ephemeral, it disappears just as quickly as it surfaces and Ryan can't handle that. He'd rather have unpredictability and impersonality than anything else.
But this is nice. And as he kind of collapses on Jason for a second, he thinks that yeah. He could get used to this. He's not looking for a boyfriend or anything more than casualty . . . The softness present is kind of nice, though. Ryan likes that. Jason must too, because he lets Ryan lie against him until he gently pushes Ryan off so he can pull out, tie off the condom and toss it out. Ryan tugs on another pair of underwear and some sweat pants while Jason is otherwise occupied. He'll have to take a shower later, but he doesn't really mind that much. It was worth it.
Jason returns shortly, wearing pants, and lies down on the bed next to Ryan.
“Are we-“
“RYAN! Where are you?!”
Ryan winces and presses a kiss to Jason's forehead before rushing out of the room to go greet Sharpay. She's waiting impatiently in the hall and Ryan waves when he sees her.
“Hey Shar, what's up?”
An accusing finger, “Where have you been all afternoon?”
“Just studying with Jason, Shar. I think my understanding of the male reproductive system is much better now. Why?”
Sharpay doesn't even dignify him with a response, she just huffs and turns on her heel. Ryan smiles and heads back into his room. He loves proving Sharpay wrong, but there's unfinished business waiting for him.
----
Postit-Notes: I should really stop trying to write porn. It's always like. Artsy and convoluted bullshit.
Fandom/Pairings: High School Musical; Ryan/Jason, Sharpay
Rating: R because I tried to write porn.
Pre-Notes: For my un_love_you claim on Ryan Evans. So I have this strange fascination with Ryan Evans fucking the basketball team. Or, rather, Ryan Evans being that guy everyone warns people to stay away from.
Disclaimer: Well, if I did own it I'm thinking millions of children would have had a vastly different childhood experience with it.
Summary: Isolating the key unit always made things go quicker.
----Key Unit
“Take my hand, take a breath.”
In the grand scheme of things, Jason is just a small blip on Ryan's radar. He isn't particularly attractive, he isn't particularly popular, he isn't particularly good-he isn't particularly anything, really. Except maybe a little slow-which isn't a compliment ever and while Ryan Evans is many many things, mean is something he generally tries not to be.
At any rate, Jason is the one staring at him in math class anyway. And Ryan knows he's got a great ass, but seriously. Either Jason is very badly closeted or just easily awed by shiny things-which is what makes him such a great candidate for seducing in order to prove a point. Sure, Ryan tried not to be mean but there was a time and place for everything and it wasn't like he'd be breaking Jason's heart or anything. He just wanted the guy to fuck him so Sharpay would shut her trap and he could prove that yes. Someone from the basketball team would fuck him.
Jason just happened to be the easiest target. In the very very back of his mind, Ryan is sorry for that but not really. He is, after all, a great fuck. The drama club would be happy to confirm that fact for the basketball team, but that's not the point. The point is that even though Ryan should probably feel bad for seducing (allegedly) straight boys into his bed, he doesn't because he knows that he is a great fuck with the added bonus of not being clingy or wanting more. Backstage sex, closet blowjobs, bathroom trysts and behind the bleachers were sort of par for the course in Ryan's book. He wasn't a whore-there was much more class and poise to what Ryan Evans was. He was highly selective and critical about who he slept with and what offers he accepted-even more so for the offers he made.
So, if Ryan has to admit it, Jason is a rather large departure from his usual standards. That's okay though because he's really just doing it to prove a point. Nothing more, nothing less.
If a hundred and sixty dollars for a particularly amazing pair of black skinny jeans wasn't “more,” of course. The jeans were worth every penny in Ryan's opinion, so he didn't actually consider them anything less than absolutely necessary. Especially if they got everyone to stare at him like that. Especially especially if they got Jason to stare like that. It was all happening according to script, which was a good thing. Ryan hated when things didn't happen according to script.
Jason is staring. Ryan chews on his lower lip prettily (deliberately) and works on the math problem, trying very hard to make glaring mistakes. Jason leans over.
“Dude, that's totally wrong. Aren't you supposed to be good at math?”
“I just,” Ryan sighs dramatically, “this section doesn't make sense to me.”
The eyeliner really only made his eyes looker bigger as he looked pleadingly toward Jason. Jason swallows and inwardly, Ryan thinks that this was just all too easy jocks can't keep it in their pants ever god. No wonder cheerleaders are always getting some and they never shut up about it-they couldn't shut up about it if Jason was any indication. Jocks just fell into people's laps.
And people called him a whore? Bullshit.
“I could, uh, tutor you.”
A small part of Ryan wants to bang his head on the desk, but instead he smiles brightly (fake-ly) and looks up at Jason.
“Sweetie, that would be fabulous.”
Jason coughs, like he's got something mysterious in his throat, and Ryan smirks inwardly. He really kind of hates jocks. They're so easy to snare-like stupid little lemmings or mindless ants-and there is absolutely no challenge in that. What had Sharpay even been thinking? If the basketball team wouldn’t sleep with him then inversely, they wouldn’t sleep with her. She was, after all, far scarier and less likely to actually take her partner’s pleasure into consideration.
But Ryan doesn’t want to think about Sharpay because the point is he just got a basketball player promising to be two steps from his bed in a little less than five minutes. Jason makes good on his promise too-he shows up exactly on time and Ryan is pleasantly surprised. He doesn't think very highly of jocks, but he doesn't mind when they exceeded his expectations.
They sit down at the low table in Ryan’s room-mostly because Ryan likes being in his room more than anywhere else in the house, but also because if Jason is going to fuck him, then Ryan wants privacy. Much as Ryan is an exhibitionist sometimes, he doesn't want to scare Jason off and he doesn't want Sharpay to walk in. Sharpay makes hard-ons wither.
In the quiet that follows, Ryan works on a math problem. He gets it wrong and Jason corrects him gently. For a jock, Jason is actually very good at math. Inwardly, Ryan wonders how because Jason spends most math classes staring at him. If Ryan had to calculate, he’d say Jason spent about 65% of math class staring. As Jason leans in, Ryan did too-they bumped foreheads. Ryan apologises in an extremely girly and sweet manner. Jason blushes.
For a while, nothing really happens. It's slightly frustrating, because Ryan can't tell if it Jason’s stupidity or the math homework is what's cockblocking them. It turns out to be duty.
They finish the homework assignment-Jason is very thorough and calm and if Ryan actually needed a tutor, he would pick Jason. Slowly, they pack up. Ryan put his pencils away and-honestly, it's an accident-drops them. He bends down to pick them up and at the same time, Jason does too. They reach for the same pencil and their fingers touch. Ryan half expects Jason to pull away as if he’d been burned, but instead Jason laces his fingers with Ryan’s and smiles sheepishly.
Ryan smiles back and presses his lips lightly to Jason’s. It's a sweet kiss, not wholly unexpected and quite a bit nicer than some kisses he’d had. There is Jason’s hand on his hip and their fingers laced together and Sharpay isn’t home for at least another half hour. Plenty of time, which is probably why Ryan somehow crawls into Jason's lap with a hand pressed into the back of his neck and is kissing him desperately. It isn't acting, though Ryan might say so later. Ryan is very, very good at being in denial about everything except the things most people are in denial about.
Their hands are still linked. Jason moves his hand from Ryan’s hip to unbutton Ryan’s shirt. It’s awkward and hard to do with only one hand, so Ryan reluctantly pulls his hand from Jason’s (there’s too much familiarity in that anyway) and helps undo his shirt. It gets tossed somewhere and Jason’s shirt follows it soon after. For a moment, Ryan appreciates the bare skin in front of him before putting his hands on Jason’s hips and placing a kiss over Jason’s heart. It’s an action as predatory as any mark and Ryan likes the feel of a heartbeat across his lips. There’s something almost poetic in that-it fits into the rhythm they’re falling into, Ryan thinks as he slowly undoes Jason’s pants. Jason is pulling him back up for a kiss and Ryan obliges because he’s never one to refuse kisses-unless there is a pressing reason to do so.
He refuses kisses from the boys who don’t have impeccable oral hygiene, he refuses kisses from the ones he kind of hates and he refuses kisses from the ones that smoke anything. It’s a simple rule of conduct, but it’s part of what’s gotten him so far without trouble.
Not that he couldn’t handle the trouble, because Ryan could. He just preferred to avoid it because it was bothersome. Unlike Jason’s hands on his hips, undoing the zipper slowly slowly if he had known about Jason earlier god he would have sought him out earlier.
The closeted ones, Ryan has found, need a certain amount of dominance over the situation. So Ryan doesn’t tell Jason what to do, but he thinks that Jason doesn’t need it anyway. Jason isn’t that closeted and he must have done this before because ah-more more harder faster please.
A moan spills from Ryan’s lips-he’s vocal and that really isn’t a surprise to Jason. Or (if it is a surprise) it doesn’t register in his face, but either way it’s okay. It’s really okay. Ryan still has to stop him though and Jason looks at him questioningly before Ryan stands to shimmy out of his pants and underwear. Jason does the same, catching the hint, while Ryan ducks under his bed for a plastic box containing condoms and lube. It also contains a secondary stash of cookies and a cellphone charger, but those are unimportant. Ryan motions for Jason to come over-largely because if there is a bed, they might as well use it.
Jason follows direction remarkably well-he complies without question, sitting on the bed hesitantly. Ryan is still on his knees, and he pushes apart Jason’s legs with a trademark Evans smirk before lowering his head to press fluttering kisses along Jason’s inner thigh. He’s a fucking tease, but only when he doesn’t want something to end. And, for reasons unknown to even himself, he doesn’t want this to end. He really doesn’t.
But he knows there is only so far you can push it, so he gets to his actual task fairly quickly. Ryan locks eyes with Jason before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the tip of Jason's dick before swallowing the majority of it. Gag reflex is a bitch and Ryan doesn't want to fall prey to it-nothing is as unsexy as a blowjob interrupted because of gag reflex (except maybe Sharpay walking in). Ryan hums as he relishes the feeling of Jason hardening and filling his mouth better. For some reason, Ryan is immensely fond of using his mouth. It pulls the most delicious noises out of people and Ryan collects those noises like some people collect stamps or shot glasses.
There's a hand tugging him away though and Ryan almost whines, but before he can Jason tugs him up for a kiss. Fumbling slightly, Ryan rips open a foil packet and rolls the condom down Jason's cock. Let it never be said that Ryan Evans doesn't care about safe sex because for all the sex he's had, all of it has been safe. Mostly. Jason takes note and almost seems like he wants to ask, but he doesn't and Ryan is grateful for that. Without missing a beat, Ryan presses the lube into Jason's hand and leans forward to whisper into his ear-low and full of lust.
“Fuck me, darling.”
For a moment, Jason just looks at Ryan with an expression that screams “what am I doing?!” and deep confusion. Luckily, it passes quickly and Jason is lubing his fingers. Ryan considers this carefully before Jason is pushing a finger into him and he can't consider much at all. It isn't that Ryan hasn't done this before-no, the Drama Club had taken care of Ryan's virginity quite nicely-but more that Jason keeps surprising him. Keeps making him want more.
And maybe there will be more. The important thing that second, though, is now. Because now Jason is stretching him. Because now Jason is sucking at the junction between his neck and shoulder. Because now Ryan is pretty damn sure that East High has a lot more secrets than he thought. Because now Ryan can't even pretend he's putting on an act. He wants this. He wants Jason.
Almost as if Jason is reading his mind, he removes the fingers and slicks the condom with the remaining lube plus some extra. Ryan lifts his hips slightly and Jason stops for an almost imperceptible moment before pushing in smoothly. Jason doesn't move immediately, looking at Ryan for some sort of signal. Ryan pulls Jason down for a kiss.
They move-and this, this is what Ryan likes best. It isn't the best fuck he's had, but it's the best one in a while. Maybe because it's . . . It isn't rushed or frantic like some of what Ryan's done. No-this is sweet and caring. Jason is planting light, fluttery kisses along Ryan's. It's weird. No one has done that for him before, but he thinks he likes it. With the one tiny section of his brain that is still thinking clearly, Ryan wonders if this is what “making love” is like. He thinks that yes, it is and that's really all he has the time for because Jason is a miracle. Ryan is bucking into the hand around him and just feeling. There isn't much space for anything else but the touch of skin to skin, the taste of skin to lips, the sound of lips to ear, the sight of ear to heart and the smell of sex.
The sensory overload does Ryan in and he recognises the crescendo of their music as the beginning of the end. Jason does something with his hand and then Ryan is seeing stars. He's pretty sure Jason is seeing stars too-maybe not exactly the same stars, but stars nonetheless. Ryan doesn't mind if they're not the same stars, because he's not the kind of person who gets into sappy romantic things like that. Love is ephemeral, it disappears just as quickly as it surfaces and Ryan can't handle that. He'd rather have unpredictability and impersonality than anything else.
But this is nice. And as he kind of collapses on Jason for a second, he thinks that yeah. He could get used to this. He's not looking for a boyfriend or anything more than casualty . . . The softness present is kind of nice, though. Ryan likes that. Jason must too, because he lets Ryan lie against him until he gently pushes Ryan off so he can pull out, tie off the condom and toss it out. Ryan tugs on another pair of underwear and some sweat pants while Jason is otherwise occupied. He'll have to take a shower later, but he doesn't really mind that much. It was worth it.
Jason returns shortly, wearing pants, and lies down on the bed next to Ryan.
“Are we-“
“RYAN! Where are you?!”
Ryan winces and presses a kiss to Jason's forehead before rushing out of the room to go greet Sharpay. She's waiting impatiently in the hall and Ryan waves when he sees her.
“Hey Shar, what's up?”
An accusing finger, “Where have you been all afternoon?”
“Just studying with Jason, Shar. I think my understanding of the male reproductive system is much better now. Why?”
Sharpay doesn't even dignify him with a response, she just huffs and turns on her heel. Ryan smiles and heads back into his room. He loves proving Sharpay wrong, but there's unfinished business waiting for him.
----
Postit-Notes: I should really stop trying to write porn. It's always like. Artsy and convoluted bullshit.