Oscar has never tried to fit in and has never wanted to, but when his party friend, Max, is revealed to be mafia prince, Marcus Gallagher, suddenly being a 'lone wolf' is no longer an option; not if Oscar wants to woo his prince and get out alive!
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It was at that moment that Oscar realized that a hot tub and Jacuzzi were not the same thing, but he wasn't going to say a word to Max about his misunderstanding. He didn't know why he was playing dumb about how he felt about Max either. Clearly he had a thing for him, neither of them would be here otherwise. He decided that it had to be a defensive thing. A way of protecting himself from the crushing disappointment if it didn't go well. But Oscar was done pretending and playing dumb. He was ready to jump into this like he always did–with both feet.
First things first, he turned on the water. He was used to having to wait on a water heater from biblical times, so it was a habit for him to leave it running while he undressed. Next, was the shirt around his waist and then the one he was wearing. Once they'd hit the tiled floor and while he was pulling off his belt, the full extent of Oscar's tattoos were on display. They didn't cover him completely and he clearly couldn't afford much in the way of color, but they patterned their way from his shoulder blades to his hips, across his chest and down his arms. Some were animals, a few had to do with his gang, and some were nothing more than tribal trash.
Max tossed the gym bag on the bed then leaned in the doorway for a moment, just observing Oscar like he was a statue in a museum. A trashy, but perfect, sexy piece of art, and he only blushed harder when he realized he was blushing. Him. He was blushing over seeing Oscar naked. Max drew in a deep breath and quickly looked away as he pulled his own fitted t-shirt off over his head and stepped out of his Beckett Simonon sneakers.
Once they were both barefoot, Oscar strode right up to Max, leveling his gaze with him and straitening his back before letting out a curt "Fuck," as he realized that he was officially the shorter of them both. With that battle lost, his gaze traced down Max's bare, smooth torso to the hem on his shorts.
A smug expression appeared on Max's flushed face. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulled them down his muscular thighs. "I guess you were right. I can't help it," he said almost bashfully.
"You flexy son of a bitch," Oscar hissed, biting back a smile as a slight tint of red stretched across his cheeks and nose. Now he knew why all those girls hung on Max every chance they got. He captured Max's lips in a heated kiss. Goddamn, he wanted him. He didn't even care who was on top at this point, though he was admittedly a little intimidated by having to find a place to fit that thing, he figured anything was possible with enough confidence and lube.
Max was quick to take charge of their kiss, pulling Oscar down with him slightly as he bent to get rid of the rest of his own clothes, before backing Oscar towards the steaming pool of water that'd filled the oversized tub. He broke their kiss, giving Oz a playful push. Then he headed for the light switch, but he didn't flip the lights all the way off, just turned the dial next to the switch, dimming them, and bathing the porcelain and tile in a warm golden light.
Oscar slid into the water. The tub was huge—big enough for four, maybe five, people and Oscar hardly filled it as he folded his arms over the lip to watch Max. "Nice mood," he commented.
