Entangled in Her
His face bore no hint of expression, which was unusual considering he was a Theatre Boy. He had been silently brooding by the liquor table, one hand in his flawless Brioni suit and the other tipping the last of his gin and Vermouth martini between his lips to savour the heady flavor of the gin. He set down the glass, and spared a glance across the dance room.
The harsh red lights spilt over a multitude of dancers, slowly swaying into each other. The music was a light instrumental piece that made his head work into a romantic frenzy of choreography, and he'd rather just lie back and breathe a little. Sleep, maybe.
He was aware of someone approaching him, and he braced himself for yet another chiding of his mother to pick a girl to dance with. His mother, as sweet as she was, tended to be a little neurotic when it came to his love life, and she made no effort to hide the fact that she'd wanted Ryan to get married by the time his twenty-seventh birthday arrived. And with each passing birthday, Ryan dreaded that magical number twenty seven, where he was sure his mother would force him into a marriage with that Van Kemp girl, who wasn't quite so bad if he really thought about it. But if only she hadn't just graduated from high school, perhaps they'd suit.
He felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder, and he could feel the warmth of a small, lithe hand through the fabric of his suit. He turned, and the moment his eyes met the warm, hazel brown orbs of one Gabriella Montez, he was certain the sudden onslaught of dizziness that assaulted him hadn't been from drinking one too many martinis tonight.
Her warm smile made his fingers almost want to shake. He tried to still his trembling insides and address her calmly, "Hello, Gabriella."
His voice sounded foreign to him, almost too squeaky, but if she'd noticed, she didn't show any sign of it. "Hello, Ryan." Her voice, in contrast, was mellow and perfect, warming him to the very core.
He wanted to charm her, he really did. But she had beaten him to it. She held out her hand, something he was not prepared for, and whispered, "Would you like to dance?"
His world, as he knew it, had been shattered.
Then, slowly, his smile morphed into something a little more tangible; so strong were the emotions bared on his face he was sure she could feel every one of them radiating towards her. He let his fingers drift up to meet hers, and in one single instance, he touched her palm, felt the softness of her hand, and right then and there, he knew that he would never be the same again.
Perhaps it was the music that made him oh-so whimsical and fanciful. Perhaps tonight he was willing to indulge in a little bit of love. Tonight he felt emotions arise that hadn't surfaced since high school ended. He was still, if not more than ever, in love with this sweet girl who sang like an angel on the night of her theatre debut.
"I would love to dance," He whispered back to her, letting his palm cup the middle of her back, where the fabric was almost translucently bare. He could feel the curve of her spine that dipped in the middle, and the contours of her slim waist. And with just a hint of naughtiness, he wanted to dip his finger into the cleft of her buttocks and rub the point where they met, until she was driven as wild with desire as he was already feeling.
But he did not. He held on to the last threads of self-control still remaining in his self, and with a deep breath of resignation, he held himself in check, then swept her graciously into his open embrace for the beginnings of a soft, sultry number that was slowly starting to play.
They melded into the crowd well, avoiding and encircling some familiar faces. He noted Sharpay's wide-open amazement as she caught his eye from an adjourning corner of the dance floor. She was currently on her seventh partner of the evening, having worn out the past six with her vigorous demands on the dance floor. He himself, too, would have given up if she'd persisted after so long. He felt more eyes on him, and barely turned to see Chad and Taylor wrapped up in each other, though both faces were turned to them… on them. Chad's eyes were ablaze, almost with righteous indignation, but Taylor's face held no hint of resentment. Instead, she looked dreamy, almost approving. Almost satisfied, too, as though she was the one who had sent Gabriella sprawling into his arms.
He felt a little bolder, even with the intense scrutiny. While the other dancers made way for them as they waltzed by, his hand had slowly slipped from her mid-back down to rest on her hip, wavering dangerously, seductively near her bottom.
Gabriella must've felt it too, he realized. But all she did was press further into him, something he presumed was her acquiescence to his touch, and he smiled to himself, satisfied with her response. His other hand came up to play with the tendrils that curled over her shoulder blades, shielding them in a coquettish black veil that seemed too irresistible not to touch. He brushed some of the longer curls away, letting them fall to the middle of her back, before letting his lips be drawn to the spot where her earrings, long and sparkling, met her nape. He let his breath linger over it, feeling her skin prickle, before dropping one chaste kiss upon her skin.
He was sure she shivered, because she was lightly trembling beneath his fingers. Good, he thought, feeling yet another wave of pleasure wash over him. He wanted to do exactly to her what she was doing to him, what she had been doing to him all these years.
He cupped her hip, rubbing his thumb in small circles where the curve was most pronounced, and she flinched beneath his palm, releasing the gasp of breath she had been holding into his shoulder. She might not have been intending to, but that breath was more than arousing; it was an invitation for more, more, from him, of him.
He was holding her so close; she was pressed up so tightly against him, swaying her body in time with his movements. So much like a sexual encounter, but yet, so far from it. He pulled back to look at her face, watched her eyes as they wavered over him with pure, sweet love, and nothing other than love, he was sure. Or perhaps it was merely desire, and he'd gotten them confused. Either way, she was going to be his tonight, and he was going to make certain of it.
The song was ending, and yet he wanted so desperately to kiss her he thought he might trip over her feet if he didn't concentrate. He let his eyes wander over her face, over her lovely features- her soft, inviting lips, and her cheeks that were stained pink, and not from make up either. He let his gaze drift down to her collarbone, where there was a soft, pale pink blush all over, and where the straps of her dress narrowed down into an open V, exposing the top of her breasts. The swell of flesh made him start to sweat, and he was aware that he was openly staring. He chided himself, tore his gaze away from her oh-so-lovely bosom, and made himself appear a gentleman by looking straight into her face.
She granted him an all-knowing smile that seemed to convey a thousand words, and he had to will his face not to blush. She was smiling, still, as if she were probing into his deepest thoughts, his deepest desires, and was preparing herself to indulge him for the night.
He very nearly groaned at the imagery. Perhaps if he were to be less hasty in his seduction of Gabriella Montez, perhaps he might actually last long enough to satisfy the both of them thoroughly. At least twice.
But he was very near embarrassing himself if anyone knew of his current state of arousal, and he chanted mentally to himself to breathe and take it easy.
So he swept her out of his embrace in one fluid motion, before twisting her into his arms again, and then dipping her down in one grand flourish.
Her surprise quickly turned into a giggle, as if she too, were ready to play this game. Her eyes were wide with anticipation, as if she couldn't wait for his very next move.
In truth, he could not wait for very long either.
He let her linger there beneath him, caught in his one arm, before he lifted her up gently and very slowly, brought her lips to meet his own.
He was gentle at first, letting her lips ease into his, letting them revel in the sheer pleasure of their meeting. He broke their kiss just as she had slipped her hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer, pulling her upright and setting her arms to her side.
Her eyes rounded in confusion, and he wanted to kiss that away, too. But the other dancers were beginning to stare, and he didn't want their encounter to be viewed openly. Not that he actually cared if gossip spread, but his moments with her were far too precious to be shared in the open. She was the sort who ought to be charmed by a real gentleman, and he would give her that. Tonight.
Kissing her forehead, he grasped her hand and led her off the dance floor and into one of the darker corners of the room.
It was then she started to speak in a frantic, almost annoyed manner. "Ryan, I don't know what game you're playing at, but I don't-"
He shut her off by pressing her into the wall and lowering his lips to hers. She gasped as he brought her up almost roughly against the wall to further mesh his lips with hers, fuelled by desire, and desire alone. She cupped his jaw, smoothing her thumbs over his temples, his ears, feeling the blood rushing hot and
fast in his veins. He suddenly broke off again, his blue eyes, now darkened to a dusky cerulean, gazed into hers in something so loving, so vulnerable, she thought she might collapse.
"It's not a game to me." He finally whispered, pressing his nose to hers tenderly. "I want to love you, desperately." He chuckled. "It's driving me crazy."
He could feel their breath mingle, hot, whispery, and he clasped her hips gently in his palms, murmuring, "Let me love you, please."
She pressed her cheek against his cheek, letting her fingers weave between the locks gathered at his nape, before softly uttering her assent.
He swallowed hard, kissing her cheek, before letting her down from the wall and entwining their fingers so that he might rub the sensitive patch of skin at her wrist with his thumb.
She sighed softly, still following behind him.
He held the limousine door open for her, letting her enter first, before he slid in, gave instructions to his driver, and kissed her hand reverently without another word.
And not once did they look back at the country club hall that held their high school classmates from seven years ago, some still dancing, most oblivious to their disappearance from the dance floor.
In the wake of the last two hours, Ryan Evans tried to breathe. But he couldn't. It was like he was not worthy of air, not worthy of another iota of pleasure to be bestowed on him. But he took both in like a man half starved, drinking in the pleasure of the aftermath of their lovemaking.
He was slightly aware of her stirring, her warmth, and as she burrowed further into his embrace he held her tightly, contented with their bodies touching, relaxing in this way.
Truly she had been not what he was expecting at all- she was better in real life. Better than all his fantasies conjured, better than the memory of her in high school. Seven years had changed her. But seven years hadn't changed his feelings for her.
He wondered when she was going to tell Troy (if she was going to tell him in the first place). But the man was out of town for another month, and he supposed that whatever she was doing behind his back would stop immediately when he came back to claim her rightfully as his fiancé.
But tonight, she slept in his arms. The worries of Troy Bolton escaped his mind. The immorality of it all evaporated. He was with the one person he loved above all others, and it did not matter if she did not come back to him again.
For tonight was enough to sate him for a lifetime. Her touch, her kiss, and the way her eyes seemed to flood his whole body with sensation the moment they turned on him; it was enough for him.
She, Gabriella Montez.
She alone was enough for him.
And as I look I see the cracks below,
And I see myself fall into them,
And I see what I've been running from,
And I just don't understand how you could,
How could you do this to me?
I've seen lovers dance, and I was under the impression that you felt the same way, too.
A/N: Oh my god(:
I am back with a vengeance.
I am currently pissed off with examinations, am pissed off with too much school work, and when I tend to get overloaded, I unwind with saucy HSM fics with desperately naughty plot lines (oh wait, what plot?).
I loved this piece because I wanted to write something I myself would want to read- I wanted something seductively beautiful, light, flowy, with Ryan Evans being his sexy usual self(:
(sighs & swoons)
Anyway, I haven't the patience or gall to edit this baby, because it's too many words on my poor little head. And it's soooooo late now, I ought to sleep. Goodnight loves!(: