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Maybe it was the worst idea he has had in a while, but Oscar wouldn’t have admitted it to himself. Sweat flowed on his back, becoming sticky with the navy cotton t-shirt he decided quickly on in the morning, leaving a damp spot on it. He fidgeted with a loose curl close to his right eye, trying but failing to calm his nerves while his left hand fingers tapped frivolously on the 5th halfway-drank spritzer. There was a strange kind of urgency and tension in every single movement he made that day and it became worse and worse by the time he spoke his idea to Mark into existence. Even though Oscar knew it would be the easiest ask, it still took him a lot of grit – the thought materializing from weeks of careful consideration was exhilarating to say the least.
And it wasn’t like he hadn't thought about it before, thought about Mark and what he would do to him if they ever just –
“Wanna go drink tonight ?” the simplest way of phrasing it, really. Oscar didn’t want to overplay it – keeping it casual and friendly was what he needed at that moment and actually did best. The mere idea of Oscar asking Mark out for something always made the older giddy and excited, like an old dog hearing the word “walk” or “treats” after a long time of nothing. Mark’s elation somewhat helped the slowly building up anxiety and tremendous lust Oscar was feeling. Because at the end of it what it was about was enormous want and need that was so freeing and pathetic at the same time. He would have been lying if he said he knew all along, that he felt Mark’s closeness and overbearing father-like behaviour shift into something different. Or was it always like that from the beginning ? From the first meeting they ever had ? Oscar did not know which option turned him on more. Ever since his not so sudden realization he went through all kinds of emotions but a single one was consistent – desire.
Maybe underneath all that carefree nature he always wanted Mark as well in ways beyond normal, beyond what is considered healthy or…moral. Because maybe the worst part about the whole ordeal was that all the fantasies and ideas in his head felt so wrong to even think about. But oh Oscar did think about them anyways whenever he could and it was all thanks to Mark himself who seemingly gave up on the facade that the thing between them was mere illusion and a piece of contract. From the point the media picked up on their “breakup” he clearly stopped caring and showed up anyways and even more than before. And Oscar loved it, loved every second of it. Every “date” they’ve set up since then just fueled the thought in Oscar further to do something, to make a move on Mark who so noticeably could not be without him for too long. What a loyal dog he was, Oscar thought often, as he jerked off in the drivers room, in hotel bathrooms and even in Mark’s house one time day after day before finally finding the courage to make the first step towards his object of desire.
Mark agreed, as he always did, and Oscar’s day slowed down in an instant, allowing him more time to really consider his options. His plans were hazy, flashes of ideas, setups and positions, half remembered wet dreams and lazy fantasies – he had to get Mark drunk for it, that was for sure. Not because Mark wouldn’t have shown his true self, but because drinking made him care less, worry less and overthink less. Oscar needed easy access to him and alcohol worked wonders on the man. That fact Oscar used against him countless times – in that state he could touch Mark more intimately and he wouldn’t mind or even notice. He became more like the person Oscar knew he was underneath all that fatherly nonsense and workplace relationship. Not that Oscar did not like those aspects of Mark, but that night he needed the real deal, the man behind roles and personas.
So there he was, sitting across from Mark in a local bar way after 11 PM, spritz half drank and his body sweaty from the pressure of it all – his eyes could not settle on just one feature of the man before him, who was just so busy hating on the Mclaren strategy that went down in Canada. He was so lost in it, not even speaking in full sentences anymore. With all that noise around them it was hard to hear anything anyways, but he was so animated that Oscar thought even by just the movements he could guess who he was insulting at any given time.
Unlike Oscar, Mark went for the heavy hitters right away, no mere spritzer was there to ease into it. Oscar was so glad the man could still stand the amount he drank already otherwise his plans would go to the trash immediately.
“-- But that’s just what I think, mate. Not saying you should agree, but – consider it.” the only side effect apart from the easiness Mark gave off when drunk was the unfiltered rage and hate he felt but could not say fully openly. While Oscar admired his dedication to being a hater it often got to a point when it felt like Mark was insulting him directly without meaning to. A little “you should” or “if i were you” was enough to make Oscar mad too but at Mark. Usually then Oscar would stop listening and just picture himself slapping the man across the face for it. It’s often enough of a thought to forgive him right away – maybe Mark would let him do that for real. An honest, quick slap on his confident face. Oscar was too drunk to make big decisions or movements so he just half heartedly placed his fingers against the man’s lips.
He hoped maybe the gesture will be enough, maybe the soft breaths coming from Mark, hitting the tips of his fingers and the slickness of his lips against skin will move him, to commit to the idea he has been conjuring up. Now more solid and determined, with intention. To show Mark where his place is, that he can’t just say rage filled things all the time, borderline insulting him and his judgement. Oscar was still the boss after all, in a way, he hoped.
“Such a turn off, man” he tried to mutter, more to himself but even with the music banging it came out so uncontrollably loud. Mark’s face distorted into something he has never seen before and he even leaned away from the fingers Oscar was still holding up to his lips.
“What” the question hit like a brick and Oscar had to really concentrate not to yell again.
“You think im stupid. I know what i’m doing okay ?! I drive, we fuck up – big deal man, next time we do good maybe probably, but you still go on and on about my future and career and what is best for me. You have to stop Mark, it’s really annoying, especially tonight” Oscar was more honest than he would’ve liked, but that was the truth. Not how he wanted things to go down but he was already past arousal the moment Mark brought the whole thing up. Maybe this was the reason he never made a move, this underlying pressure of Mark trying so hard, too hard to guide him and care for him. This overbearing control looming over him every time racing came up in conversation – as if Mark knew anything about how he’s been feeling. Bullshit.
“Osc I -” Mark would start but the excuses died on his tongue. Too drunk to argue or too scared to do so Oscar did not know, but he wanted to leave. They already arranged a place to stay together so he couldn't back down from that, but he could still ignore the man until the morning when they would both leave with bitter taste in their mouths and regret hopefully in Mark’s heart. Oscar hoped Mark was feeling really awful inside – hurt and plagued by the thought that he made Oscar mad.
The cab ride back was dreadfully awkward, though while Mark was looking out the window into the night – reflecting on the things he said maybe or just trying not to get dizzy – Oscar was looking at him, almost like checking him out without really meaning to. Manspreading in dark jeans, arms crossed before his chest covered by a plain shirt. Oscar was disappointed he could not get a piece of him after all, but it was just too much. He also noticed their knees were touching, pressing into each other even though they both had enough room in the back. But neither of them moved away.
Reaching their shared room Oscar without care laid on one of the beds, looking up at the ceiling, studying the weird white patterns on it to distract himself from Mark, who was not so subtly pacing around, itching to say something finally now that they were alone. It was terribly quiet compared to the bar and Oscar could hear without looking where the other man stepped next and the sound of him finally stopping at the dangling feet of Oscar to say what was on his mind. Oscar propped himself up to his forearms and looked at Mark, judging, right into his eyes – he was curious what sort of excuse he would bring up this time, but instead of saying anything Mark dropped down to his knees, hands on his thighs. Oscar found the whole image so pathetic and sudden he fully sat up to get a better look.
There was a look and expression on Mark’s face as if he committed a serious crime and was about to beg for forgiveness. Those puppy-dog eyes looking extra sad and droopy made Oscar almost let out a chuckle, his whole body heating up at the sight.
“So sorry, Osc, I’m sorry I –” Mark was truly a mess, perhaps he drank more than Oscar noticed or something was in the air he did not know but Mark bending forward a bit pressed the side of his cheek into Oscar’s exposed knees, the sensation of the stubble sending the warm feeling right into his pants. Seeing the man like that was intoxicating, the miserable display of looking for forgiveness gave Oscar a drunk-hazy idea. His fingers found themselves in Mark’s hair, gently stroking, lips slightly parted and exhaling shaky as he decided that it was finally happening after all despite Mark’s fuckup. Or maybe as the direct result of it.
“Y’are always running your mouth, y’know?” Oscar said as his fingers traveled down from the graying curls to Mark’s cheek, then chin and finally – his lips, while paying close attention to every little motion the older’s face made in the process. There was no protest, no question, only easiness and the pitiful acceptance of defeat. “Want to shut you up all the time. You would like that I know, you’re practically dying for it, yeah?” and as Mark was about to let out a sound Oscar gently but firmly pressed his thumb past the man’s lips, into the hot wetness of it. The noise Mark made then was between a choked moan and a whimper – lazy but still full of lust.
Oscar could not hold back his breaths becoming more frequent and louder as he explored the sensitive mouth of the older. It felt surreal and he reckoned he was already hard but was too focused on Mark before him to dare to look. Saliva dribbled down on Mark’s chin as he sucked on the fingers, the drops flowing down onto Oscar’s leg, burning a path onto his skin as it went.
When the sucking was both too much to bear but not quite enough Oscar pulled out and with wet fingers held Mark by the face, gripping and eyeing him for a while. Now he could feel himself definitely hard in his pants, so when he was done with the suspense he guided Mark straight to his crotch while still holding him. The image of Mark choking on his cock filled every little movement of his with urgency and a blind rush. The alcohol was working overtime in both of their systems numbing every doubt and resistance that could’ve still remained.
But as Oscar was unbuttoning his shorts pulling it down with his boxers Mark seemed like someone who just woken up from a dream.
“Oscar I don’t think we should –” but before he could’ve said more Oscar interrupted him with his fingers prying open his mouth once again, now wide enough to fit his cock inside.
“Shut up for once and just take it ! Fucking take it like a good dog” and without warning he guided his dick past the wet lips deep into Mark. A gaspy moan escaped him as the heat wrapped around him and he had to close his eyes for a second. It took everything in him not to cum right away as he opened his eyes at last and saw Mark looking utterly defeated and ruined. Oscar took mercy on him and waited longer than would’ve liked before he held onto the man’s head and pushed it down on his cock. Mark let out a harsh choking sound but did not let go – he was gripping into Oscar’s thighs from either side, steadying himself to bear the overwhelming sensation. Tears appeared at the corners of his eyes as he looked up at Oscar. And those sad doggy eyes were enough to end him right there, he was weak and strung out completely and with a choked moan he came into Mark’s mouth, still holding him, pushing him down to take it all, to not even be able to make a sound – shutting him up completely.
And when the aftershock was over and Oscar had let go he looked down at Mark – wet everywhere, dripping and falling apart, bulge so visible he wondered how he didn’t break sooner. But Oscar felt merciful so he gently pressed one foot against Mark’s cock through the hard fabric of his jeans and that seemed to do the trick, he came with a cry, pressing his forehead into Oscar’s knee, like he was trying to hide away from him. Mark stayed there, sobbing and panting for a while as if in shock from all that happened. Oscar waited patiently, stroking his sweaty head gently.
“Good boy”