When Max said he wanted to take him out for sushi, Oscar assumed he meant out to some expensive restaurant, not out of the entire country. At least not until he was following Max across the tarmac of the Kingsport Airport, to a private jet, with nothing but his sunglasses. Max was already halfway up the staircase to board the plane when he noticed Oscar still hadn't set foot on the first step.

"...You coming?"

Max looked so tall and confident at the top of the stairs; the wind blowing in off the runway, ruffling his hair perfectly like some fucking model...effortlessly handsome, and waiting for him. Honestly, that look could have gotten Oscar to do anything without a second thought.

"Yeah! Just enjoying the view!" Oscar called before hopping up the stairs after him.

"Yeah?" Max smirked and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'll give you more of it to enjoy once we've taken off."

"Say less," said Oscar as he took in the polished wood and marble bar that greeted him as he stepped inside. It was kind of weird that the inside of the jet was nicer than his apartment and probably a little bigger too, in terms of total square footage. Beige leather seats, lovely LED track lighting, a big screen... But nothing on the plane was as attractive as the mafia prince.

Max was fairly quiet while the plane left the runway and lifted into the sky. He was lounging across the loveseat opposite the TV, with his chin propped on his hand, like a boy carelessly riding in the back of a flatbed pick up. No seat belt, and not a care in the world... Just enjoying being right where he was.

Once they were soaring through the clouds and were no longer ascending, Max clapped his hands together and stood up.

"So! Mr. Bradley, our flight this evening is going to be about six hours," Max said, loosely emulating the cadence of a flight attendant. "And we have quite the on-board menu." He stooped down and opened one of the cabinets to prove his point, before adding, in his normal, silky tone, "Pick your poison."

Oscar pulled his attention away from the window where it had been glued the entire time that they'd been taking off. He'd watched with bated breath as they picked up speed, lifted off the ground and everything slowly became smaller and smaller until he had a perspective on the city that he'd never had before. It was a spine tingling feeling, a new and thrilling rush that was only increased by eyeing the offerings Max displayed.

From the bottles presented, he didn't hesitate to snatch the Johnnie Walker Blue, and while he was fetching some ice for his glass, Max pulled out a cherry wood cigar box and opened it. Oscar didn't know much about cigars, besides he usually couldn't afford them, but he had seen men smell them in plenty of movies, presumably to assure their quality. So, that's exactly what he did, and he was glad he did too, because even though Oscar didn't know a lot about cigars, he knew plenty about blunts, and that's exactly what he was holding.

"It's gotta take one rich, flexy, son of a bitch to disembowel a Cuban for some green," Oscar said as he shook his head and grinned like a felon.

Max's playful smile widened, and he gave Oscar a small shrug as he lit the end of the "cigar" for him. "I think we already established that about me, didn't we?"

Pocketing the lighter, Max ran a hand through Oscar's hair just above his ear, then repeated the motion, before tracing a finger over the punk's earrings. He thought briefly of asking why Oz had been so secretive about his grandmother, but he didn't really want to hear Oscar say why. It would probably just spoil his mood. And he was sure he knew the answer, anyway...

Why would a sheep tell a wolf where the rest of its flock grazed? Max knew he was a wolf...the kind that could swallow sheep and shepherd whole and still be unsated. And there was no changing that. But if Oscar could forgive him for it; look past it even, then that was good enough for Max.

Pulling his hand away from Oz, Max tugged the knot in his own stone gray tie loose, and let the fabric hang. "This your first time flying?" he wondered as he poured them each some of the amber scotch. It was actually his da's... Max didn't usually drink the stuff. He'd never really acquired the taste for it since, to him, it went down the same way he imagined water squeezed from one of his saddles would taste after a hard ride in a summer rain...like musty leather.

Goosebumps still lingered on the punk's arms, masked by the layer of inked images that decorated them. "In a plane," Oscar affirmed and punctuated the comment by taking a deep drag that was oddly smooth and rich with a smokey flavor. The punk sat down and leaned back on the divan, exhaling a plume into the air above him. "Holy shit... I could get used to this..." he murmured.

"I was hoping you could," Max practically purred as he mounted Oscar's lap. He waited for Oz to take another hit, hands smoothing up the t-shirt fabric across Oz's chest, before leaning down and capturing Oscar's lips, stealing a small inhale of the smog straight from his punk's mouth.

Oscar grinned and caught Max by the ends of his loosened tie, using it like a leash to pull him forward into a proper kiss. The taste of the cigar, weed, and scotch mingled and flooded Oscar's senses with a warm cozy feeling.

A wave of heat rolled through Max, and he broke their kiss to let out a few brief coughs of smoke. He calmed his coughing with a swig from his cup, then leaned back down, invading Oz's warm mouth with his tongue. His world was feeling pleasantly blurred, and every fucking thing felt so good... Every mesh of his tongue against Oz's sent tingles through him, and his hips rocked gently on their own accord.

A soft groan left Oscar as Max's grinding started to get to him, and even though he could still see Max's two bodyguards sitting only a few feet away, he really didn't fucking care at this point who was watching. He yanked Max's nice dress shirt clean open, breaking a few buttons in the process.

Max sat up, letting out a soft, husky chuckle as he stared down at his destroyed shirt. "That was rude," he huffed, before taking the 'cigar' from Oz, and placing it between his own lips. "What if I wanted you to move in with me?" Max asked, squinting as he watched the smoke swirling away from his face, tongue feeling lazy.

Oscar tried to manage a glare but it was ruined by the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, you're a monster...waiting until now to ask me. How the hell am I supposed to say no?"

"You're not. You're supposed to say yes."

"What about my stuff?"

"Bring your stuff," Max said easily. It wasn't like they were pressed for space at the Gallagher residence. "Or I'll buy you new stuff."

"I think you'd be doing just what Rufino wants... You know he bribed me to spy on you?"

"Did he now?" The mafia prince didn't sound concerned in the slightest, though it was also distinctly possible that his buzzed brain was incapable of genuine concern at the moment. "What'd he bribe you with?" Max wondered as he scooted back far enough that he could open Oscar's belt and run a hand across the punk's toned abdomen.

"He paid off the gang and t-t-threatened Nan," Oscar's words shuddered as he felt Max's fingertips and guided them down his midline. He was already embarrassingly hard at this point—a fact that was hard to miss.

Max allowed Oscar the control, getting the same thrill out of it that he had when his tie had been used in the same fashion. "What'd you tell him?" Max flicked his tongue across one of the smooth planes of skin as his warm hand slid over Oscar's hard flesh.

The punk's stomach tensed. "I told him I'd do it."

"You did?" Max's voice had a lift to it, and he reached over with his free hand and finished off his scotch, this time making a bit of a face as he swallowed the liquid down. "...Really?"

"Well, yeah, I mean it's one thing to put a gun in my face, but he brought family into it," Oscar defended.

"Mm..." The mafia prince gave Oscar's length a gentle stroke, thumb circling the head. "You still didn't answer my question."

Oscar's teeth dug into his lower lip. He was unable to stop his hips from bucking into Max's touch. "Heh, caught me...Alright," the punk breathed as he leveled his gaze with Max. "I'm in."

Max's petting paused as he lifted his head to gaze into those gorgeous eyes, realizing he was completely unprepared for how deeply Oz's agreement would affect him. He felt it in his core. He knew he wanted Oscar, but he'd wanted a lot of things before, and it was rare that Max was ever denied anyone or anything. Oz agreeing to take their relationship to the next level was fucking hot, and affirming, and made Max feel like the biggest man in the world. "Serious?" he whispered, even though there was no real cause to keep his voice down.

When Max stared at him, Oscar felt like someone had laid a sandbag on his chest. The word boyfriend had never really been agreed upon, but he knew what moving in together would imply. He'd be his and that was a scary thought after Oscar'd seen firsthand how easy it was for Max to track him down.

Oscar had always been a lone wolf. It had gotten him in trouble with the gang more than once. He wasn't used to including someone else in his plans or his consequences and he wasn't sure how he'd handle it. But the tone in Max's voice made him want to try. It filled him with a warm snug feeling, or maybe that was the booze and body heat talking. Either way, this was one ride that he wasn't ready to get off of yet.

"Seriously..." Oz said, leaning up and capturing Max's lips in a kiss that was different than the others. It was slow and deliberate as if Oscar was tasting his new boyfriend for the first time.

Max melted into that kiss. He felt both vulnerable and protected, and that was fucking strange. Nice, but strange. He kissed Oscar back, doing his best to restrain the sense of urgency building in him like a volcano, and just savor every painfully long, teasing second. His heart was hammering in his chest.

Was this what love was? Not just attraction, but real love? The actual, real deal?

It had to be. Max had no other explanation for feeling like he wanted his whole existence to just meld into Oz's. Like he wanted to be so close to the other man that not just their bodies, but their fucking souls combined, if there even was such a thing.

When he finally peeled his lips from Oscar's, Max was panting. So was Oscar as they rested their foreheads against one another for a moment. But Oscar couldn't stand it any longer. His hands fell to Max's pants and hastily undid them, shoving the designer clothing off like they were nothing but an obstacle between him and Max.

Max was just as eager to strip Oscar the moment he was rid of his own slacks. Oz's t-shirt was easy enough to yank off over his head, and he snickered at the punk's ruffled hair. Leaning over him, Max trailed hot kisses down Oz's neck, which turned into biting and sucking. The mural of tattoos made some of his marks less noticeable, but Max didn't care. His hands had moved on to working out the logistics of getting at least one of Oz's legs out of his boxers without getting racked by one of Oscar's knees.

To save them both some trouble, Oscar slid out from under Max and stood up, discarding his underwear to the scattering of clothing across the interior of the sitting area. Then he took Max's hand, pulling him up to join him, and leading the way back to the bedroom at the end of the plane, letting the door slide shut behind them as he stole another kiss from the prince, and pushed him back towards the bed...

I'm just gonna go ahead and tell you now, that the next chapter is titled, "Sex and Sushi", and it's not ironically named! 😊🔥🔥🔥

Shout out to ThatGingerRogue ! Thanks so much for your support!!