A/N: Whilst watching HSM2 one day, I came to the startling conclusion that Fulton is truly a disgruntled and fairly traumatized man. Poor guy…. I wonder what hellish experience he has endured that would cause him to inform our basketball star that a tie goes around your neck like a "dog collar".
Warnings: Troy/Ryan slash. If you're seeking a Troyella it shall not be found here. Flame me if you're set on confirming your own ignorance.
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Except perhaps the plot of this yarn. Trust me, if I owned "High School Musical" the target audience SO would not have been preteen girls.
Emancipation of the Dogs
"I know everyone thinks I'm Sharpay's poodle…"
Troy Bolton cringed to himself as the rather disturbing words the Lava Spring's manager, Mr. Thomas Fulton had directed at him in light of his envied position with the Evans family, due to some marvelous manipulation on the part of self-proclaimed princess of the country club and diva of the high school, his classmate Sharpay Evans, echoed, unrelenting, in his troubled mind; "In case you are unfamiliar with this particular item, it goes around your neck. Like a dog collar."
He slept fitfully, his subconscious plagued by images of Sharpay in bridal attire, holding him at her side with the aid of a coral blue necktie. "We're totally skin-tone compatible, Troy!" She informed him with a peal of shriekish laughter. The brunette athlete jarred himself out of the hellish vision, a tormented scream issuing from his mouth as his sculpted body broke out in a cold sweat. His heart thundered in his chest, beating at what felt to be a thousand miles per hour out of sheer terror. "Aah, fuck!" he exclaimed. The athletic boy's ocean blue eyes were stretched wide as he sat up, pinching his nasal cavity. He let out a groan before falling back on his pillows. No matter where he turned, Sharpay was there. There was no escaping that girl and the incessant pink cloud that swirled about her. And she made him promise to sing with her, her parents standing as witnesses. He had no choice in the matter. His job, as well as his future seemed dependent on staying in the favor of the exceedingly wealthy Evans family, and it seemed the only way he could do that was by allowing himself to become a fixture in their precious daughter's life.
Even if it meant passing up opportunities to hang out with his friends, or blowing off dates with his girlfriend. Yes, Troy's mind was a muddled mess these days, but at least there was a bright side to all of this. When he was forced to be the sole audience member of a private show the girl had orchestrated for him, he was able to see her twin brother, Ryan with a gleeful grin plastered on his face while the smaller blond boy pranced around. Ryan, Sharpay's poodle or East High's theater "fag" as he was brusquely referred to, was positively gorgeous even while donning the most ridiculous outfits the wildcat star had ever seen. And that skirt. Ohh. Could he lay the blame of lingering stares on too many days spent changing in close quarters with the demure blond male during the Winter Musical? It wasn't as though he ogled his friends and teammates in the locker room. And that skirt was so loud, its bright orange fabric decorated in golden flowers. Was he really at fault for not being able to ignore Ryan's perfectly shaped round ass as the boy did an about face? For staring at it and feeling a slight twitch in his dress slacks? He had a girlfriend. He couldn't be considering thoughts of such a nature. Of course, that fact held no relevance as far as Sharpay was concerned. Letting out another groan, he rolled over, well aware that sleep would prove futile.
The next day was a blur to Troy as Sharpay skipped up to him, chirping and squealing some garbage about joining her for lunch. If there was a God above, Troy Bolton must have been on his list. Unable to muster up anything intelligible, he replied with a less than enthusiastic nod. If Sharpay noticed, however, she said nothing about it. Obviously she was unable to get it through her Barbie Doll head of blonde curls that he wasn't interested. Pressing her breasts to his toned chest in a most undignified manner, she squealed girlishly before prancing off once more, leaving a nauseated Troy wincing, a finger in his ear to assure that his auditory abilities were still fully operational. He soon found himself being whisked off by a flustered as always Mr. Fulton to the interior of the club and being ordered to change into something more "appropriate" for the occasion.
As always, the tan complected boy made no attempts at rebelling and did as he was expected, grimacing inwardly. Using his inability to knot his tie correctly as an excuse to touch him, Sharpay once again re-looped the strip of material, cooing at him as if he was an infant. She pulled it snug, the knot resting directly beneath his Adam's apple. Glancing around, he found the absence of the girl's sensible brother to be relatively unnerving if not extremely disappointing for a reason he himself failed to grasp. How could he rely on Ryan to rescue him when the boy was pretty much trapped himself? It wasn't right of him. Wasn't he supposed to be the big strong man and save his delicate, beautiful prince? The sun must have been getting to him. Looking around, however, he realized that he was indoors, seated across from the queen of Lava Springs as she batted her eyes at him, smirking like the cat who caught the canary. His stomach up heaved painfully and it was a struggle to not reveal it visibly. God forbid he sabotage a date with Sharpay Evans because of his ailing stomach. He felt himself blanching as his heart began to ache, longing to be anywhere in the universe but where he was.
That night he had another dream involving a blond. Blue eyes stared into his own, eyes swimming with an emotion that wrenched his heart.
"I've been dreaming of you." A pair of rose petal lips relayed to him.
Extending a hand, he stroked the creamy porcelain face of the speaker, watching with satisfaction as it flushed a light pink. "You don't have to dream anymore. I can make it real." He pressed his pink lips to the other pair, finding them soft as freshly woven silk. Longing darted up and down his body, tightening in his chest. Heat pooled within his groin, making his pants ever so tight. He slowly ground his hips into those of his dream lover, his heart swelling with bliss as the light voice yelped his name in pure pleasure. A firm, hot bulge met his own as Troy thrusted, muffling his own groans of pleasure as well as the other male's by plunging his tongue into his mouth.
"Oh, Troy!" The light voice moaned, a voice so familiar, one that he knew so well. His arousal intensified upon hearing it, for as soon as those words were uttered, the identity of his fantasy revealed itself to him. Blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin, pink lips impeccably perfect for kissing, a perfectly rounded, pert rear.
"Ohhhh God!" He groaned loudly. "Ryaaaaan!!"
When he awoke that morning, Troy found his hand had slipped into his boxers sometime during the night. And it came as no surprise to him that there was a slight mess to deal with thanks to his budding hormones. Blushing a deep red, he slunk out of his bedroom quickly and quietly, hoping that he would not run into his parents. He couldn't fathom the mortification of explaining the "situation" to them. Ducking into the bathroom, he proceeded in cleaning up. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and found an idiotic grin plastered on his face. He had had a wet dream about Ryan Evans. He had cheated on his girlfriend. But the latter was of no importance to him. Not in light of what he had done to commit so heinous an act. Now that he thought about it, Gabriella's sex appeal was very minimal, if it existed at all. He hadn't even kissed her yet. And absolutely not in the matter he had made out with the other boy in his dream. And damn, what a kiss it had been. If the real Ryan was capable of anything along those lines, somehow he wasn't sure he and Gabriella had much of a sex life awaiting them. Not when I get excited over Ryan… Oh, my poor Ryan! All alone with no one to hold him at night! He needs me… and I need him so badly… Maybe we can escape his psycho sister together! What absurdities! Yes, there was definitely something wrong with him, but he found himself unwilling or unable to care.
Troy kicked at a rock, venting his frustrations. Today his friends and fellow Wildcats on the kitchen crew had given him the cold shoulder. Vertically challenged composer Kelsi Nielson was the only one who acknowledged him, her blue green eyes sparkling sympathetically. Gabriella called in sick and Fulton had a hissy searching for someone to take her shift. Seizing the opportunity the lack of her competition presented her with, Sharpay ensured that the golden boy of East High remained at her side as she strutted about the grounds of her "kingdom". The blonde female had her Yorkie, Boi, in tow, the poor creature decked out in a bright pink vest to match his mistress. She cooed at her pet, stroking his back in a manner that was most unloving and rather intimidating. With a snap of her manicured fingers, an escort appeared, taking the miniature pooch from his owner. She plopped down into her signature pink chaise, gesturing for Troy to join her.
There was no way! No way he was going to sit beside her! Being in such close proximity with the girl was already riling his stomach. He turned to the pair of men on either side of the Evans female, searching their gazes frantically for help only to find that neither of them could offer it. Stifling an outcry, he dropped down next to the drama queen. He felt like a complete scumbag. How was it that being around Sharpay irritated him like nothing in the universe, eating at the core of his being, but fantasizing about her twin brother filled him with ecstasy incomparable to any other activity in his life?
"So Troy," The girl drew out, her lips curling into that poisonous smile. "Are your legs as toned as the rest of you?"
"Come again?" That couldn't have been what it sounded like. There's no way Sharpay would… not in public. Then again, this was Sharpay Evans, the girl who ALWAYS got what she wanted, and it just so happened that the object she coveted was him. Her hand sent a frigid chill up his leg as she ran it up his thigh. Disgust hit him like a tidal wave and even before his short-circuiting brain could transmit the message to his legs, he had taken off, fleeing the scene as if hellions were on his heels.
"There's no way in hell I'm letting Sharpay turn me into her lapdog!" The golden boy vowed to himself. His eyes gleamed with the ferocity of his resolution.
"I wish I had as much conviction as you." A light voice spoke from behind him, the wistful note striking a chord of empathy in the brunette's heart. It was the voice that had swirled mesmerizingly through his dreams the previous night, guiding the movements of his hand as it delivered pleasure beyond his wildest expectations.
Whirling around, he let himself slowly take in the sight of Ryan Evans, his eyes traveling up the boy's delicately sculpted body, resisting the urge to trace the outlines of his milky pectorals, which showed through the clingy fabric of his indigo polo. Ryan's shorts emphasized the curves of his lower body in the same alluring manner, the bulge at the front of his khaki Capri's startlingly evident. But any amount of willpower that Troy could muster would prove incapable of averting his gaze. "R-Ryan," he greeted the boy, a smile breaking out on his face. Hearing his voice falter, he cleared his throat before attempting once more, "Hey."
"Hey." The other boy's blue eyes sparkled softly, a smile playing on his pink lips.
Taking the initiative, as Ryan seemed to be abstaining out of shyness, Troy stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck. Suave, Troy, he mentally instructed himself. Come on, put that Bolton charm to use. "I've been dreaming about you," he stated.
The sparkle in Ryan's sky shaded orbs intensified. "I hope they were good dreams."
"They were, Ry."
The soft smile on Ryan's face was shaped by a mixture of bliss and piercing melancholy. He took a step forward, leaving but a small space between them.
Troy's heart lurched, reaching out toward the smaller boy, wishing to rid him of his sadness. Because he was struck by a feeling of certainty that he was to blame for it. I'll hold you, I'll kiss you, I'll make love to you, but please don't look like that. The nearness of the other boy was intoxicating. His aroma was one of mistiness, so natural, unlike his sister, who smelled strongly of exotic flowers. Inhaling it, Troy let Gabriella fade from his mind along with the remainder of his sanity. Ryan's slender hand reached toward him and as he followed the movement of the limb, he inhaled in one quick gasp. The hand closed on his necktie, loosening it, undoing the bonds his sister had enforced upon the golden boy.
"Maybe I don't want to be Sharpay's poodle anymore either," the blond male whispered.
"You don't have to be." Leaning forward with a minute, facile motion, he captured the lips of the other boy with his own. The sensations his fantasy of the night before evoked were amplified a hundred times over. Oh god, Ryan was so much better than any fantasy. The reality of kissing Ryan Evans was utterly incomparable. His lips were soft, moist and full as they pressed longingly against the taller boy's in a chaste lip lock. Troy Bolton was in heaven, sweet elation traveling through his veins, impacting his heart, his loins, the very core of his being. When at last they broke off, they stared into one another's eyes, lids dropped, half concealing them. Regret and shame were not to be found and Troy was unbelievably relieved. His arms wrapped themselves about Ryan's trim waist. He could feel the blond smiling against his tanned neck. He wanted this as well. He had yearned for it, pined for it, and it was long overdue.
"You don't know how much I've needed that." Ryan was speaking his mind.
Troy agreed completely. "I'll be more than happy to do it again," he offered, grinning as he littered kisses along the boy's neck.
He felt Ryan's eyelashes flutter as he sighed with rapture. "Please do. Ohh, Troooy."
Having a better knowledge of the more "private" locations on the premises, Ryan guided Troy to a more concealed parameter of the building just outside of his room at the club. His testosterone driving him, the brunette pinned the blond to the wall, the boy's pale fingers tangling in his locks of silken brown, raking gently across his scalp. His tongue slipped into the eager mouth of the theater king, joining the boy's own muscle in a battle for dominance. Groans went unnoticed by the rest of the staff.
"Tomorrow," Ryan informed Troy between gasps and moans as the liberated athlete adorned his creamy throat, "we're ending Boi's term… as Shar's… living plush toy with… mm- matching accessories."
Troy voiced his agreement with a loud grunt. Forcing a creature that couldn't even speak up on its own account to play Tinkerbell to Sharpay's conniving and extremely intimidating Paris Hilton had to be at least seven different kinds of animal abuse. And the thought of any small creature in pain boiled Troy's blood. Especially as he could recall instances of his Ryan walking into class with cuts or bruises on his beautiful face. Of course, that anger was extremely difficult to get into touch with considering the incessant pleasure that was swelling unabashed within him. And if he was making Ryan feel even a fraction of the intensity he felt, if they were sharing this wondrous experience… "Sounds like a plan."
"Troy Bolton, East High's rebel… who knew?" Ryan's half chuckle was cut off by a moan as Troy began undoing the buttons of his polo, desperate to see the flesh of his dreams.
Who knew indeed? Suddenly, those slender hands were undoing the buttons of his uniform shirt, caressing the golden flesh they revealed. The feeling was beyond description. Yes, they would definitely have to continue this. He resolved then and there that he would return Ryan the favor no matter what it took. He would free his angelic blond actor. When I'm done with him, people will never again call him Sharpay's poodle. And I'll make him happy while I'm doing it… yes, doing it, because his smile makes me feel invincible and he's too hot to resist.
Ah, emancipation was such a lovely principle.