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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The long elevator ride only added to the punk's anticipation.
When the elevator bell rang and the polished cherry wood and bronze doors slid open, Oscar wasn't disappointed by what lay before them. It wasn't like any office he'd ever seen. This wasn't a tiny, gray, confined space, stuffed with cheap cubicles and oppressive fluorescent lighting... Instead, it was an open, lacquered and polished space of rich brown woods and leather. All of it was accented with reflective metallic geometric lines that broke up the planes of the walls in artful ways.
Directly opposite the elevator was a sitting area with a wall of windows that rose to what would technically be the forty-third floor and provided a view of the city and bay beyond. Warm golden LEDs traced out some of the shapes in the walls and the bar to the left of the elevator. To the right, a big-screen TV hung above a glass fireplace and more golden LED lights traced the edges of the glass and wood staircase that led to the second level where a giant desk sat like a monolith, overlooking the room and the entire city.
"Whoa..." Oscar marveled as he drifted towards the giant windows to better take in how high up they were. As he did, he could see that the wall that supported the TV and fireplace wasn't the end of the room, but sported a sliding glass door behind it that led to an outside terrace.
"Yeah... So, when you get hungry, just use that phone over there by the bar. There should be a menu next to it. Order whatever you want. It'll be brought up," Max explained. "I'll be down the hall, on the other side of the building. Not sure how long this is gonna take, but~" He hooked his finger between Oscar's belt and jeans, tugging the punk closer before he could wander too far. "When I get back, it'll just be us up here for the rest of the night," Max murmured against Oz's ear before giving his ass a squeeze. "Sound good?"
Oscar smirked back at Max before as he watched him leave and then turned back to the impressive view. It, and the vest of lounge, was entertaining for all of another minute before the punk was as bored as he'd been at the manor, though there was probably even less for him to do here...
Hours passed.
Then, Max finally sauntered back into the lounge. He followed the sound of light snoring over to one of the studious-looking armchairs, and leaned over its back. "What was for dinner?" he asked, half hoping to startle Oscar awake.
"Chicken teriyaki," Oscar yawned out, rubbing his eyes and stretching a little. As pretty as the chair was, it wasn't much for a napping spot. The remnants of the platter that had been brought up were still sitting on the table and some late-night talk show was just wrapping up on the TV. "But I was hoping that you would be dessert..."
Max grinned as he took a seat, sighing with relief. His back was aching and he could feel the stress catching up to him in his shoulders, but just the idea of entertaining Oscar's suggestion was putting him in a much better mood. "On the subject of that, I-"
A chime from the elevator echoed through the space, and the sleek double doors glided open.
"...got you something, by the way..." Max craned his neck to see who'd come in. "You've gotta be shitting me... Hold that thought for a sec, Oz," he hissed, standing up. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
