By the next morning, the anger and pain caused by the loss of his bike had descended Oscar into a deep melancholy which had bound the punk to his bed.

Presently, he was sprawled on his back, watching the graceful patterns cast on his ceiling from the pool water outside, while his playlist of emotional rock ballads blasted on repeat. Short of burying his pet goldfish in the backyard, this was his first real sense of mourning the departure of something beloved.

He hadn't come out for breakfast and the odds of him making an appearance for lunch didn't look good either.

Elise had opened the door to Oz's room to peek in, and Max rested his chin on her head, which prompted her to swat at him. "See? You need to talk to him," she said, loud enough for Max to hear, but clearly not loud enough for Oscar to hear her over his music.

"This can't be over that bike."

Elise's stubborn frown was only accentuated by her crossing her arms. "It is. I'm telling you, it is. Go talk to him."

"I'm gonna buy him a new one..." Looking in on his punk, the scene did seem pretty dramatic... "His wasn't even expensive."

"Marc, what if something happened to Ace?"

"Ace isn't the same as a fucking motorcycle."

"It's the same to Oz. You're his...boyfriend." She mouthed the word rather than saying it out loud. "You need to be there for him," Elise insisted, "He needs you." With that, she did the best she could to shove him into the room, despite the disparity in their sizes.

With a sigh, Max headed over to the bed and flopped down next to Oscar on his stomach. "Alexa, turn down the music..." Once the wireless speaker responded, Max found Oz's gaze. "Hey...wanna talk?"

"I dunno..." Oscar murmured as he tilted back the beer bottle into his waiting mouth.

Part of Max wanted to just accept that answer. Wanted to go tell Elise that Oz would be fine, and to just let him work through whatever this was, but as soon as he thought that, he felt guilty about it. That wasn't how a partner should act. Oscar wasn't supposed to have to deal with something that upset him like this alone.

He took the bottle from Oz and sat up. "I think we should...but not here." Max set the bottle down, and got up, grabbing each of Oscar's arms. "C'mon."

Oscar let out a sound that didn't exactly convey consent, but he did follow Max to the garage, where they both got into the prince's sporty blue car and took off down a side road that Oscar hadn't seen before.

About twenty minutes later, they reached the end of a pasture, closed in with pristine white vinyl fencing. It stretched along the left side of the road for another ten minutes or so before they pulled up to a gate, where Max punched in a key code and the gate parted.

Max took that drive up to what looked like the kind of two-story clubhouse that might sit in the middle of some fancy-shmancy golf course, where people with private jets liked to hang out, but Oscar didn't see any obvious holes or sand traps. What he did see were two long barns flanking each end of the building.

"Here we are," Max said, almost like that alone should mean something to Oz, before quickly realizing that it didn't, when the punk just sat there, staring through the windshield with an expression about as emotive as any of Kristen Stewart's. "Come inside," he encouraged, before climbing out and leading Oscar in.

The downstairs was spacious and pretentious, just like anyone would expect from the outside, and sported a full bar and pool table. But by far, the most eye-catching thing was the huge sculpture of two non-identical steeds facing one another in front of a fountain, which split what could've just been one staircase leading up to the second floor into two, that flanked them instead.

But upstairs, which was right where Max led them...

...was a mess.

The whole space smelled faintly of fine cigars and patchouli. There were clothes carelessly tossed over the backs of arm chairs. Belts, and ties, and shoes on the floor, next to empty water bottles that had fallen off of the cluttered tables they'd probably originally been placed on... There was an entertainment center packed with books and DVDs, along with an old N64 and game cartridges, and the flat-screen sitting on top of it had been left with a YouTube video paused on it... There was a box on one end table packed with vinyl records that looked like no one had ever bothered to unpack, and placed in the most commanding position of the space, was a bed—the comforter half bunched in a heap, and the pillows tousled around.

Max sighed, clearly a bit embarrassed as he snatched a few things off the floor. "Sorry, I've not really... Well, you know... I've been busy, but...make yourself comfortable."

For a minute, Oscar just stared.

This was it...this was where 'Max' lived...

In a weird way, it both was and wasn't what he'd expected. Once the mild surprise had faded, the punk turned and pulled Max to him, capturing his lips in a kiss. "There... I'm comfortable," he assured.

Now it was Max's turn to just stare for a moment...at Oz. The punk had made his cheeks heat up for a completely different reason, and Max liked it. He liked grinning like an idiot at the beautiful little shit that was Oscar Bradley. He loved it, actually. He loved having his arms wrapped around him, and he loved smashing his lips against Oz's, which was exactly what he did.

Sure, this wasn't exactly talking, but it was still healing, right? ...He was still helping?

Max pushed his tongue past Oz's lips, walking Oscar backwards towards the bed. "Yeah?" he whispered once he reluctantly broke them apart for air.

"Fuck yeah," Oscar replied in a soft husky tone, before pulling the handsome mafia prince down onto the bed with him. It smelt like Max. Unlike his bed at the house, which smelt mostly like clean linens and air freshener, this one smelt as warm and comforting as Max's brown eyes looked.

"Good," Max's words fanned across Oz's neck, preceding the kisses he pressed to his skin. "If it makes you feel any better," he added, nipping Oz's jawline. "They'll know how bad they've fucked up soon."

Oscar felt his stomach jump.

"Oh, yeah?" the punk echoed his partner's earlier response. He liked the idea that someone would pay for what happened, and that Max would be the one behind it. It wouldn't bring back his poor bike, but it did make him feel a little better. But what made him feel even better than that he had Max's full and undivided attention all to himself.

Max paused in his kissing and nipping to give Oscar a truly devilish grin. "...Yep," he replied, but his grin faltered. He was definitely getting closer to painfully horny, and farther away from actually talking. The mafia prince suddenly repositioned to lay beside Oz, propping his head on his hand. He needed to try a different tactic. "...How about this, I give you details if you give me some... I know you really liked that bike, and that it meant something to you."

"I don't know...." Oscar grumbled before letting out a heavy sigh as he looked at his partner's handsome face. "Thinking about it pisses me off..." and he didn't want to be pissed off, not when he finally had Max to himself. "So, this is a pretty sweet secret bachelor pad," Oscar thought aloud as he laced his fingers under his head and stared up at Max.

"It's uh..." Max snorted as he looked around. "It's my escape... Did your bike have a name?" he asked, trying to get back on topic.

"Hugo..."

"...Wanna meet my Hugo?"

"What?"

"Let's go on a short walk," Max said, getting up and smoothing his hair as he padded down the stairs. "So...the reason this place is where I come to unwind, is because I have a Hugo, too. Only, he doesn't have an engine, and his name is Ace."

Max led Oscar to one of the two barns, and inside was a huge open aisle, lined with stalls. They passed a few of them until they got to one where a massive animal stuck his long face out, nickering and staring wide-eyed at Oscar.

"Whoa!" Oscar jumped back a good foot when he saw the animal, and his eyes were probably just as wide.

"This is my best friend in the world...besides you," Max said, sounding awfully proud of the fact, while placing his hand out for Ace to put the end of his nose against. There was wide, white stripe on it that went all the way up to the horse's forehead. "He's a twelve-year old Thoroughbred. He was actually born here at this ranch, but I called dibs on him before Angela could."

"He's a-a big boy," the punk observed while trying to still sound casual, despite the fact he'd put Max squarely between him and the horse.

Max looked at Oscar. "Here, put your hand out."

"My hand? Oh, no. I-I'm good, Bro," Oscar said, still observing from the safety of the mafia prince's shadow.

Max laughed, snaking an arm around Oscar's waist. "Wait, you aren't scared, are you?"

"Pft. Me? No. It's just...like...horses look smaller...on TV," Oscar said, as he slowly inched towards the horse.

"Well, he is almost seventeen hands..."

"Whatever that means..." Oscar had just started to reach out with his hand when the horse snorted, causing him to jump and discharge a very high-pitched shriek all at once.

Max about doubled over laughing, using his grip on Oscar to help keep him up. "Oh-oh I'm-I'm so getting you on one," he finally got out, wiping tears from his cheeks. His face ached from smiling so much.

"What!?" Oscar was so embarrassed that he'd turned bright red and almost missed what his partner had said. "Oh, no! MAX! No!" The punk panicked as he watched the mafia prince go for the bridle and lead rope on a rack next to the stall. "I think he'd rather stay in his box! Max!"

But all Oscar could do was watch helplessly as Max opened the stall door.

Ace stepped out before Max had even put the bridle on him—a mass of pure muscle, moving beneath a glossy, ambery brown coat, that stood taller than both of them—advancing on Oscar.

"Eeeaasy," Max cooed, while he both sounded and looked as relaxed as could be. He held part of the bridle in front of Ace's face, and the horse slipped his nose in like a trained dog. After Max effortlessly latched the bridle in place, he hooked the lead rope on. Ace was right in Oscar's space, sniffing his hair, since he'd essentially backed Oscar against the stalls on the other side. There was another horse breathing on Oscar's head from behind him now, too. "Back up, Ace. Give him some room."

"Good boy, nice horsie..." Oscar said, looking between Ace and Max and then back again, frozen in place. "W-What's he doing? Why's he doing that?"

"He doesn't know you, so he's just curious," Max explained as he led both Ace and Max into a large covered arena that Oscar hadn't been able to see from the angle of the drive. "Here, get up on the mounting block. I'll get on first, and then you can take the bitch seat," he added with a devious grin.

Max made mounting such a large animal look easy, even without a saddle. He wasn't even using reigns. He'd just laid the rest of the lead rope over Ace's neck, near the end of his dark, nearly black mane.

Oscar had always thought that riding a motorcycle made someone badass. Unlike a car, there were no doors or windows to hide behind. But a bike didn't have a mind of its own, a bike couldn't just decide it didn't want to listen or that it didn't like you, a thousand pound animal could. But seeing Max astride his horse was incredibly hot, in a way that Oscar hadn't expected, and his confidence coupled with Oscar's own curiosity was enough to get the punk scrambling up behind him.

"Alright, so, um...This is not like a bike, obviously," Max said, before giving Ace a slight squeeze with his legs, prompting the horse to start walking. "No need to lean anywhere. In fact, just try to sit as tall and straight as you can."

They were up really high, and despite how easy people like Max made it look, riding a horse was hard. Even still though, the thrill, the inherent danger, being pressed against Max's body. It was all really doing it for Oscar, and after a couple laps around the arena, he was legitimately having a good time.

"Would you be cool with letting me buy you a new bike after we're done here?" Max asked out of nowhere, tilting his head to look over at Oscar. "I'd really like to..."

Oscar thought about it for a moment, trying to avoid the fact that getting a new bike meant his old one was gone and instead trying to think of how fun it would be to browse bikes with his best friend and lover.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that."

Oscar finally got to see where Max's save haven is!! 8D Does this mean the mafia prince is opening up more~? What do you think? Any predictions for what's ahead?

Shout out to 09071466657sophia ! Thanks so much for your support!!