By Song Birdy.
Author's notes. Obviously, I don't own HSM, and never will. This is… uh, messed up. I mainly wrote it because I thought of one of the phrases when I was half-way asleep and wanted to write something dirty, something fucked up. So here it is. Ryan/Sharpay. Because it's not like Disney didn't imply it anyway. Please, "What I've Been Looking For" is like, a ballad to incest. of course, I jest. Ryan needs a fire extinguisher, he's so flaming. Again though, I like Evilesque!Ryan in this one.
The way he shoves her roughly against the wall has almost become routine. He shoves her skirts up around her thighs, and begins to unbutton the front of his shirt, showing little concern.
When she lies awake at night, she tries to justify her sins to herself, pretending that she's talking to some higher being that she's forgotten ever existed. His hands are her hands; they are merely sharing what they have. His hair is her blonde locks, and they are mixing together dangerously.
She wonders if anyone knows how truly evil he is - how truly dirty they are.
That despite her perfect hips and manicured pout that could throw any high school boy to his knees, the only thing that brings her to her knees is her own blood.
And oh, how the mighty have fallen.
He knows each curve in her hip, and she has memorized the way his bones jut out of his back. Carefully placed bites can be hidden by her hair, and secret brands of ownership underneath the collar of his shirt oft go unnoticed or unspoken.
She sometimes wonders how to save herself, to save her brother. Purposely, in the back of her mind, she allows herself to moan his name loudly, much to the annoyance his more violent side. She quietly wishes that the housekeeper might hear her, that their mother may not be so drunk and might realize, that by some miracle, their father would be home from work long enough to punish his son for what he's done. To save his daughter from what she's done.
But the house is always empty, and she is always his for taking.
There is no escaping, no stopping, and no running.
Oh, to feel that familiar blood rush against her chest.