Rebel punk, Oscar Bradley, discovers that his party friend, Max, is the prince of Kingsport's Irish Mob; fierce rivals of the biker gang that's served as Oscar's surrogate family. With Max quickly pulling him deeper into his luxurious but deadly wor...
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Dinner was great, or at least Oscar guessed that it was. The restaurant was in the lower part of the hotel, and their table was on the back patio overlooking the sunset and the beach, every bit the picturesque vacation getaway. The punk might have enjoyed it too, if he weren't so wrapped up in his own thoughts of heat.
Everything here was hot; the food, the weather, and most of all, the Gallaghers. That cold shower hadn't stood a snowball's chance in hell, and neither had Oscar. So, after they were done eating, and everyone had gone back to their rooms, he decided to pay Max a visit.
"Man, I can't do this anymore..." Oscar admitted as he pushed into Max's room without waiting for an invitation. "I mean... I can't sleep with your sister...but I can't not sleep with her either!"
Max looked like he'd had the wind sucker punched right out of him. He huffed out a breath, closed the door, and turned to face Oz. "The fuck are you talking about?"
"Okay, Max... I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm going to lay it out on the line for you. I...can't not do...what I'm not supposed to do, okay? It's just how my brain is wired, bro!" Oscar was pacing, raking his fingers through his long bangs until he paused to face max. "Like, I don't even like her that way, but because I know I'm not supposed to—I can't share a room with her! What if she catches feelings for me?"
"She's not gonna catch feelings for you!" Max snapped, feeling stupid even as he said it. Oz was extremely likable. He wasn't a pushy snob like many of the guys who'd tried to get Elise to date them... Oz was nice to her. He was respectful. But that's how it needed to stay. "And you realize how childish that sounds right? That you have to do something because someone said you shouldn't? What do you expect me to say to that?"
"I'm serious! It's like a curse or something!" Oscar bristled. "Look, can I—can I just spend the night in here, with you?"
Max sighed, then, without any warning, he pulled the punk to him by his black, sleeveless muscle shirt. "If that's-" Their lips crashed, melding into a brief, but super heated kiss before Max sucked in a breath, adding, "Really what I have to do-" Another rough kiss followed. "To make you behave yourself..." Max growled, before he'd claimed Oz's lips again. His fingers were in Oscar's dark, still slightly damp hair, that smelled like coconut sunscreen and hotel shampoo.
"Mmmf!—Mhmm!" The punk's response was smothered between their lips but no less enthusiastic as he tugged on Max's rusty red locks. The next moment, Oscar was pushing Max back and pinning him against the nearest wall.
To say that Max was disappointed by the direction that their exchange had gone, would be a complete fucking lie. Had they solved Oz's problem? Not exactly. Was there still probably going to be an issue with the whole Elise-thing after he and Oz finished screwing each others' brains out? Maybe... But at the moment, Max couldn't care less.
This was all he wanted. All he really wanted, anyway. Oz to himself. He wanted the punk's attention, and his twisted little mind, and his incredibly hot body, which was currently grinding deliciously against Max's, and-
