Charade
Chapter One
She's always been one for believing in fairy tales.
As a little girl, when her mother would crack open a book and tell her a tale about a trapped princess in a locked away tower, she'd find herself smiling with glee when the beloved prince came to her inevitable rescue.
She's always been one for believing in fairy tales.
As a little girl, when the charming prince would rescue the poor princess in her book, she would find herself wishing and hoping for the same fate, for the same future as the beautiful princess from the story.
She's always been one for believing in fairy tales.
So, when her mother had announced to her that she'd be wedding an unwilling business man on the night of her eighteenth birthday, her beliefs and dreams had been crushed.
She's no longer one for believing in fairy tales and happy endings.
"Are you ready, my darling?" Her mother asks, moving a hand from her hip to check the bow of her daughter's dress.
Gabriella glances at her reflection, tears clouding her sight as she admires the white gown adorning her body, "Mama..."
The elder woman moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue, "Hurry on up now, darling. You have important guests."
The young woman slowly nods and bites her insides of her cheeks, shrugging her arms down hopelessly by her sides and following her mother out of her bridal room.
She shudders when the familiar tune starts to play as she walks beside her mother down the aisle.
The unknown faces stare at her, some with envy, some with joy. She's not sure which are more frightening.
Maria Montez stops at the end, swiftly clasping her daughter's hand one last time before handing her over to the man waiting beside them.
Glancing over at him, Gabriella swallows a breath.
He's handsome, she can't deny it. And she's sure that he'd make a fine father to their future heirs, but she's not ready for this.
She can't marry him, she can't hand herself over to this man for the rest of her life. She only just knows his name and his age. His seven years above her barely show on his twenty-five year old face.
She knows his age, and his name. But she doesn't know him.
She doesn't know what he likes, to eat or to do in his spare time. She doesn't know his weaknesses, or even his strengths. He seems like a well-built man, strong enough to carry her or a particularly heavy piece of equipment.
But she doesn't know him.
She just knows that he has to do this for her family, for her mother, for her safety, for her security.
He doesn't seem any more enthusiastic than herself, she notes. He gazes at her with a blank look, as though he's none too thrilled about their situation either.
She wonders if maybe he had planned to wed another, if he had another bride in waiting, another woman that he actually wanted to spend his life with.
Not her, not some half-peasant girl from the village who knows only little about royalty and success.
But she does it anyway.
"I do."
She marries him, and she becomes Mrs. Troy Bolton.
"You should leave now, my darling."
She turns, dazed, at her mother's whisper and frowns.
"Whatever do you mean?"
Maria grasps her hand and strokes her hair lovingly for an instant before she speaks again, even quieter this time, "To his bedchamber."
Gabriella pauses, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.
She's absolutely not ready for this. She's not ready to be intimate with a man she barely recognizes. She gulps and stares into the woman's eyes, searching for some sort of compassion or anything remotely close, "Mama."
Her mother nods her head and rests a hand on her back, slowly guiding her towards the staircase.
Gabriella watches a couple of elderly women by the main door of her new household, watching as her mother ushers her forward. They seem to whisper and mutter something about her as she unwillingly walks upstairs, staring back at her mother with a terrified expression.
Do they know?
That she never wanted this?
That she doesn't want to sacrifice herself to her new husband?
How she doesn't want to give him her body?
Watching their faces, she realizes that they don't pity her, they relate to her, and she thinks that maybe they've been in similar situations in their past, in their own marriages.
Carefully walking up the stairs, she takes a deep breath before heading down the hallway.
He's sat in the corner of the room when she gets there, his legs wide and a cigarette in his hand. His head is thrown back as though he is worn out, and she can hear his heavy breathing from the few feet away she stands.
Gabriella licks her lips, subconsciously enjoying the sight of his rugged form slouched and tired. She closes the door behind her quietly before spinning around and standing straight, her hands clasped innocently behind her back.
She doesn't speak or move, she just simply stands for a moment, admiring the way his chest breathes in and out, and watching as the smoke from his cigarette fills his surroundings.
She's never had a smoke before, nor does she ever intend to. The smell has a tendency to repulse her stomach, but she figures that she must now get used to the horrid air.
His flicks the end of his smoke with his index finger and she watches as he lifts his head, his eyes closed as he takes another puff of the toxic air.
His face is beautiful, she notes, wishing that his eyes would open again so she could gaze into his ocean coloured blue orbs. She doesn't know him that well, but she could get used to staring into those eyes of his. His deep dark brown hair is scruffy, slightly hanging over his forehead and she notices his knitted eyebrows as though he's in deep thought about something.
When the cloudy smoke reaches her lungs, she lets out a quiet cough, clamping a hand over her mouth.
"How long have you been there?" She perks up and lifts her head, turning to face him.
She clears her throat and shrugs, "Not long."
He simply nods and licks his lips, casting his gaze away from her.
She's not sure what to do, how to move.
As a girl, she'd been told that on her wedding night, her prince charming would show her how to be loved, how he loved her.
As a young woman, she'd been warned that her wedding night may be slightly painful and strange, and that she might not immediately feel her husband's love because it's her duty to love him first.
As a bride, she hadn't been told anything. She hadn't been informed of anything, advised of how to act or of what to do.
She had no idea what she was doing.
She's incredibly innocent and untouched, her first kiss taking place with him only a few days earlier at their rehearsal dinner. It had been awkward and strange, rough on his part and clumsy on her own.
But she figures that she's going to have to get used to it, to this, to him.
"Are you just going to stand there?" He asks her as he raises an eyebrow, amused at her stance.
She fidgets her fingers behind her back, nervously toying them around in circles. She swallows a breath before smiling over at him, "No."
"Come here." He says, sticking his cigarette between his teeth as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.
She falters before taking anxious steps towards him, her fingers shaking behind her back as she walks.
Her dress does a good job of covering her body and her skin. The long sleeves cover her bare arms and the lace panel across the bust hides her curved cleavage.
She bites her bottom lip when he leans closer and holds her shoulders. She turns around at his accord and stiffens when she feels him undoing the buttons down the spine of her dress.
She's always wanted a simple wedding dress, elegant and white.
Gabriella holds her breath when he finishes with the buttons and pulls the material at her shoulders, tugging the top half of her wedding dress down her arms.
She's not a fool, she knows that he's had his fair share of conquests, of women he's bedded. And now she's going to find herself added to the list.
What if she can't satisfy him? What if she can't give him what he needs? What if he gets fed up with her and moves on behind her back?
She's not a fool, she knows that he's obviously going to sleep around outside of their marriage. And, though she barely knows him and definitely doesn't love him yet, she's dreading the thought of having to share her husband with some whore.
Then, she turns back around, and holds his gaze as she pulls the dress down her body, bending slightly as she reaches her hips. The lacy white material pools at her feet and she drops her arms beside her body carelessly.
Troy stares at her for a moment, watching as she stands before him anxiously, her knees slightly shaking. He doesn't think she's aware and he softly chuckles.
"What?" She sounds self-conscious all of a sudden and he shakes his head.
He grasps her hands in his own, placing his cigarette back between his lips. He tugs her forward slightly, bringing her down onto his lap. Her legs fall on either side of his body and she straddles his waist. Her hands, still tucked firmly into his own, place themselves on her thighs. "I'm not going to hurt you." He tells her, removing his smoke from his mouth and holding it away from her. Lightly coughing at the smell, she boldly takes it from his hand and puts it out on the arm of his chair. She bites her lip again, her nerves coming back as he smirks, "Unless you want me to."
She frowns, "Why would I want to be hurt?"
He leans back and runs his hands up her legs, his fingertips brushing along the edge of the white nightgown she'd worn under her dress. "Some people enjoy pain. I take it that you're not one of them?"
She pauses, unsure of the circumstances of his question. Does he mean pain in real life, or pain in... other things?
"Judging by your lack of a reply, I'd say you're unsure. And inexperienced?"
She blinks a few times to gather herself and sighs, "I was raised to wait. For marriage, for my husband. For love. For... well, you, I suppose."
He smirks, "Well, I'm flattered..."
She's not sure if he's teasing her or if he's being sincere.
"Tell me, did your dear mother send you up here?"
"She told me to come to your bedchamber, yes." She confirms, avoiding his gaze slightly.
"You mean our bedchamber." He corrects her and she simply nods.
At least they're having a remotely civilized conversation, something she never would have thought possible when her mother had announced to her that she'd be marrying this man.
He appears decent, at least from what she knows of him so far, from how they've talked, from what she's seen.
Gabriella licks her lips and straightens her back to loosen a tight muscle, inadvertently pressing herself down harder against him. She suddenly stops and glances down between them, noticing the apparent bulge in his trousers. Her anxiety comes back and she dares to look up at his face, almost caving under his amused expression.
It's worth a short, she tells herself. They're married now, and she knows that she's going to have to give in to him eventually. It can't hurt, well not that much, and it's not as if he's going anywhere anytime soon.
She tentatively rests her hands on his broad shoulders, her fingertips digging into the blades. Troy doesn't move as she budges, instead he just watches her actions, his growing lustful gaze staring up at her as she leans closer.
Gabriella closes her eyes for an instant as she straddles his lap comfortably, her fingers pressing into him as he runs his hands up her thighs and under her gown. Her skin erupts in goosebumps when he moves his hands back down to her knees.
She opens her eyes and stares down at him, swallowing a breath as she moves herself against him, bringing their bodies closer as she slowly grinds herself on his lap. His right hand flies to her hair, pulling down the clip so her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders, encasing her face against his. She rests her forehead against his as he throws her hairpin to the ground and his hands resume their place on her legs, his hands cupping the backs of her knees in his grasp roughly.
She knowingly presses herself down against him, a wicked smile on her lips when he softly groans at the pressure. Maybe she's not as innocent as she thought, she ponders. His thumbs brush circular patterns on her thighs as he holds her in place.
As she continues to move rhythmically against him, Gabriella slips her hands down the collar of his white shirt, her fingers touching his heated skin with tension. She licks her lips before slipping the first button undone, proceeding until his shirt falls open before her.
She takes a second to admire his toned torso before she feels herself being pulled forward, her mouth connecting with his passionately. She doesn't respond for a moment, wondering how to go ahead with everything, until his tongue sweeps across her bottom lip and she lets go and kisses him back intensely, granting him willing access to her mouth. Her teeth bite into his lower lip and she smiles when he groans again, obviously reacting positively to her new approach.
Troy grasps her legs tighter, bringing her closer to him if possible, with a smirk when she moans into his mouth.
He moves a hand to cup the back of her neck for a moment before he pulls down a thin strap of her gown, his lips leaving hers to press against her skin. His places open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone and down her chest, stopping at the curve of her breasts.
His hands go back to her thighs and she softly moans when he slips them higher under the hem of the cloth, «Troy.» His fingers fumble with the thin line of her lacy panties for a second or so before he hooks his thumbs down the sides. He continues to work his mouth against her skin as he pulls the material down her legs quickly, leaving the underwear resting at her curved knees in his lap.
"Troy." She speaks his name again, slightly louder this time as he wrinkles her nightgown around her waist and grips her hips in his hands.
He holds her in place for a second, glancing up at her heated face as her naked center rests against him, aching and begging for him to touch her. Her hands push this shirt from his shoulders and he pulls it away to toss it onto the ground. She presses her face into his chest, her teeth biting into his collarbone as he finally touches her, his hands rubbing against her bundle of nerves.
She slightly jumps when he slips a finger inside her core, his thumb tracing her clit delicately as he kisses up her neck sloppily, sucking on the skin beneath her ear and leaving his mark.
Gabriella breathes out heavily as he adds another finger and works her body masterly. Her hands scrape down his chest as he continues, her fingernails marking his skin violently when she feels herself collapse against him, her first orgasm taking over her body.
She leans back slightly, gripping his shoulders as he continues to touch her and kiss down her chest, using his teeth to pull down the rest of her night-dress. The entire gown gathers around her waist and she lets out faint sounds as he finally reaches her breasts. His runs a hand over her left as he licks her right, his tongue swirling around her nipple for a moment before biting and sucking down.
"Jesus Christ." The words barely escape her lips as she breathes out and she throws her head back, climaxing against him, her body complete putty in his hands.
He removes his fingers from her, rubbing against her fragile center for a second to calm her down. His teeth let go of her nipple and he brings his finger to his mouth, licking the tip to taste her on him as she watches, a haunted look in her eyes.
Troy holds it up to her lips and she opens her mouth to taste herself on his fingers. She slowly licks his finger, taking her time to torture him before sucking on it.
She's not even sure how he did it, but he's somehow already managed to turn her into some sort of dirty and improper bride, and they haven't even made love yet.
She lets his hand drop and throws her head down onto his shoulder, her lips achingly tracing the skin.
He cups the back of her neck again, holding her against him possessively. His other hand rests on her naked back, tracing soft patterns on the skin just above her behind. "You're tired."
She gently nods against him, her hands coming down to rest on his trousers. She glances up at him when she feels the ever evident heat in his lap and she bites her bottom lip again, a questioning look on her face.
He shakes his head, repeating himself, "You're tired." He runs a hand through her hair and slips his hands lower to cup her behind, "And you're not ready for that."
Before she knows what's happening, he's picking her up and walking her over towards his bed, their bed. He lies her down, pulling back the many covers and removing the unnecessary gown from her body.
He tucks her naked body beneath the comforters and watches as she quickly drifts off to sleep, her hands slipping beneath her pillow.
Troy sighs and runs a hand over his face with a yawn. He irritably stares down at his pants for a second before he decides to head into the bathroom to sort himself out.
He's married to her now, to his virginal bride whom he has no idea how to treat or love.
"Jesus Christ."
