Author's Note: I haven't written in awhile, I found it kind of depressing. So I sat down and just started writing. I don't own High School Musical.
Warning: homosexual relationships, bad language
"Hey, Evans, get up," came a cross voice from the outside of the door. "A new guy just came in—Fletcher requested you."
"Uhhh," Ryan moaned, pushing back his sweaty blonde hair from the small bed he stayed in at the strip joint. "Tell him to get someone else to do it. I've already been fucked six times today."
"Shut it, Evans. You want to get fired?" Lysander looked in, his face furrowed in frustration. "Come on, man, you know I'd step in for you but of course Fletcher had to go into detail about how all of us looked and fucked and other shit like that and the asshole chose you. Lucky duck."
"Mmmm," Ryan murmured, looking up at Lysander with his glassy blue eyes. It was so dark and musty inside the room he could barely make out his friend. "So tired."
"Come on Ryan—one more and you'll be done for the night," Lysander coaxed, giving Ryan his infamous puppy eyes while flipping back his copper-colored hair.
"Damn it," Ryan cursed, pulling himself out of bed and standing in front of his friend.
Lysander studied him, his eyes drifting over Ryan's slim frame, his thin t-shirt, and green pair of plaid boxers. "I'd lose the boxers," he suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"Shut up," Ryan said, a smile tugging at his lips. His smile faded as he realized how badly his body ached. "Do you know what he wants?"
"I think it's a blow, a shower, and a fuck," Lysander said, ticking the assignments off his fingers. "Good luck."
"A blow?" Ryan whimpered. "Damn it, the last guy I blew cummed all in the back of my mouth. I almost choked."
"I'm sorry bud," Lysander said, glancing sympathetically at Ryan while biting the nail of his pinky finger. "We didn't chooser our lives though, and just remember you're better than this shit and maybe one day you'll get out of here."
"Yeah," Ryan scoffed, his eyes sad as he remembered the life he once had as he pulled off his shirt. "And maybe one day you and I will be happy picking up girls."
Lysander smirked sarcastically, but there was a sad look on his face as he brushed his hand over Ryan's bare stomach and affectionately ran his fingers over Ryan's cheek. "It will get better, I promise." He kissed Ryan on the lips and turned away as Ryan left knowing his friend was about to enter Hell.
Troy Bolton was nervous. He'd never had sex with a guy before and honestly didn't know why he was doing this. His day had been stressful so he went to a strip joint? It made absolutely no sense to him, but he needed something.
He followed a pimply man—Fletcher?—to a small room where he sat down. Fletcher turned the lights off, telling him it was a privacy issue, leaving him in an almost fully dark room. Troy sat patiently on the chair, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for his slut—wait, weren't those girls?—whore to enter.
The door opened and a figure filled the doorway.
"Hi," Troy said rather stupidly. The other guy didn't answer, but just closed the door, leaving them in relative darkness again. Troy could make out the other guy's thin body and light—probably blonde—hair, but couldn't see his facial features or anything. Troy heard the sound of dropping cloth, which he assumed was his boxers. He suddenly felt nauseated and started pulling away as the guy reached for his pants.
"Wait," he breathed heavily after he heard the blonde zip down his pants. "Can we… slow down a little?"
"What the hell do you mean?" came the rude reply.
"I…I've never done this before," Troy admitted rather sheepishly.
"Had sex?" the questioning voice asked.
"Yeah…at least with a guy…" Troy paused, feeling his entire body harden. "I don't even know you."
There was silence. Then, "Are you retarded or something? This is a strip joint—you pay to have sex and you're not supposed to know who you're fucking."
"Well maybe I should know who I'm fucking!" Troy yelped as he felt a hand grasping his erection.
"Shut the hell up," the other voice came. "You have no idea how fucked up we are so you stay out and just have what you paid for." Troy gasped as he felt his member being engulfed, a tongue dancing over his sensitive areas.
"What's your name?" he asked as he moaned.
Troy felt the mouth come off his penis. "…Ryan."
"You have a last name?" Troy asked.
"You didn't give me yours, prick," Ryan snapped angrily.
"You didn't ask, bitch," Troy couldn't help being rude. This guy was an asshole.
There was silence as Ryan began sucking Troy off again.
"I'm sorry. Troy Bolton."
There was a heavy gasp as Ryan jerked away. In the darkness Troy couldn't see his face, but judging by his small whimpers, Ryan was horrified.
"What's wrong?" Troy reached out to grasp Ryan's bare shoulder, but Ryan pulled further away from him.
"T…Troy…" Ryan murmured. "It's me. Ryan Evans."
"You're shitting me," Troy gaped. "You're fucking me."
"Yes I am," Ryan replied. "Quite literally."
So I usually don't cuss. But I'm a freshman and people cuss all the time. So I got used to it and stopped being so conservative. I probably won't cuss with you, but yeahh.