SPORTS CAR | OP81
an: so far for the last t8 songs ive given them to lando, time to give our boy oscar some love. i cant promise im back for good, its exam season at the school im working at so busy busy busy but anyway enjoy this op81 piece
wc: 4k
THE GALA WAS THE SORT OF EVENT where champagne flowed endlessly, and the air was thick with the weight of old money. Oscar, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, leaned casually against the bar, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The soft strains of classical music filled the grand hall, but his attention wasn’t on the string quartet or the ridiculously expensive artwork on the walls. It was on her.
She glided through the crowd as though she owned the place—because, in a way, she did. Her gown, a shimmering cascade of silver, caught the light with every deliberate step she took, and her smile was just shy of predatory. She was the kind of woman who never had to hear the word “no,” a little princess who always got exactly what she wanted. And tonight, it was clear that what she wanted was him.
Oscar swirled the amber liquid in his glass, suppressing the smirk threatening to spread across his face. He recognised that look—had seen it on her at least twice tonight when their gazes met from across the room. It was bold, unrelenting, and entirely unapologetic. She didn’t just want him; she wanted to make sure he knew it.
“Enjoying yourself?” Her voice broke through the small space between them as she appeared beside him at the bar. Her perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and something darker—wrapped around him as she leaned in, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her skin.
Oscar glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “As much as one can at an event like this.”
She laughed softly, the sound smooth and syrupy. “A man with all the toys in the world, bored at a gala? I thought you’d be used to this sort of thing by now.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it,” he replied, setting his glass down and turning to face her fully. His dark eyes flicked to her lips for a fraction of a second before meeting her gaze again. “What about you? Enjoying holding court?”
Her smile widened, a little wicked now. “The only fun I’m planning on having tonight isn’t going to be on the dance floor.” She tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping lower, meant only for him. “You brought one of your cars, didn’t you?”
Oscar’s smirk finally broke through. “I might’ve. Why?”
She stepped closer, her hand brushing the lapel of his tuxedo, and tilted her head as though her question was entirely innocent. “Because I’ve always wondered what the fuss is about. The leather seats, the thrill of it all... You should show me.”
He chuckled, low and dangerous, leaning in just enough for her breath to catch. “You think you can handle that, princess?”
Her eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and challenge. “Why don’t you take me for a spin and find out?”
Oscar shook his head, a low chuckle escaping him as he leaned back slightly. “Your dad would kill me,” he said, his tone light but edged with something darker.
She didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, her lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. “He doesn’t need to find out,” she murmured, her voice smooth as silk.
Oscar raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully. She was bold—too bold for her own good—and she knew it. “You’re not exactly the subtle type,” he pointed out, his tone laced with amusement.
She shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Subtlety is overrated. Besides, you’re clever. You’d figure something out.” She stepped closer, her fingers grazing the cuff of his sleeve, feather-light. “Unless you’re scared, of course.”
He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Scared? Of you?” His gaze flicked down to her hand before returning to her eyes, dark and steady. “You don’t scare me, princess.”
“Good,” she said simply, her voice soft but laced with that same unshakable confidence. “Because I’m not leaving here tonight without what I want.”
Her words hung in the air between them, the weight of her challenge impossible to ignore. Oscar let the silence stretch for a moment, his eyes locked on hers, weighing up the consequences. He could already feel the heat of her expectation, the daring glint in her gaze that made it clear she wasn’t bluffing.
Finally, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
Her smile widened, shamelessly triumphant. “Always.”
He exhaled, shaking his head again as though he were trying to convince himself he wasn’t about to make a very stupid decision. But the way she was looking at him—like he was a prize she’d already claimed—made it impossible to resist.
“Fine,” he said at last, his voice a low rumble. “Meet me out front in five minutes. Don’t make me regret this.”
She didn’t respond, only grinned as she stepped back, smoothing the skirt of her gown as if nothing had happened. “You won’t,” she said, her tone light and breezy, as if they weren’t on the brink of scandal.
With one last look over her shoulder, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Oscar standing there, shaking his head and wondering just how far he was about to let this go.
The air outside the gala was cool, the faint hum of engines and distant chatter filling the night. She stood near the grand entrance, the shimmer of her gown catching the soft glow of the streetlights. A few partygoers lingered around her, but she didn’t pay them any attention. Her focus was on the sleek McLaren pulling up to the curb, its low, aggressive stance impossible to ignore.
Oscar was behind the wheel of the dark grey 765LT Spider, its polished finish gleaming like liquid metal under the lights. The car exuded power and precision, its growl unmistakable even in neutral. As the passenger door lifted upwards, Oscar leaned over slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
“Get in,” he said, his voice low and steady.
She didn’t hesitate, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she slid into the seat. The leather interior cocooned her, the faint smell of luxury and petrol filling her senses. With the door closing seamlessly behind her, Oscar revved the engine once before pulling away from the gala, leaving the murmurs of curious onlookers behind.
The streets of Monaco unfurled ahead of them, glittering like a dream. The McLaren hugged the curves effortlessly as Oscar navigated the winding roads, the sound of the engine echoing off the buildings and cliffs. The city lights reflected in the water, casting a golden hue over everything, and the occasional roar of other supercars in the distance only added to the energy of the night.
She leaned back in her seat, her head tilted slightly as she watched him. He looked completely at ease, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift. His focus was sharp, the faint glow of the dashboard illuminating his sharp features.
“No girlfriend with you tonight?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft hum of the engine.
Oscar’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Don’t have one,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Why?”
He glanced at her briefly, his dark eyes filled with quiet amusement. “Why do you think?”
She turned slightly in her seat, her smile coy. “Don’t you think it’s time to change that?”
Oscar’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly, the words hanging in the air between them. For a moment, the only sound was the steady purr of the McLaren as they sped along the coastline. Then, as if making a split-second decision, he downshifted and pulled the car off the road, steering into a quiet lookout point overlooking the sparkling bay below.
The engine rumbled to a stop, leaving the world in near silence save for the distant waves crashing against the shore. Oscar turned to her, his dark eyes unreadable, the weight of her words still lingering.
“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” he murmured, his voice low and thick with something she couldn’t quite place.
Her smile didn’t waver. “Why would I, when I’m getting exactly what I want?”
For a moment, he just stared at her, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. Then, without another word, he leaned in, one hand reaching up to cup her jaw as his lips crashed against hers. The kiss was electric, heated and unapologetic, the kind of kiss that left no room for second guesses.
She responded instantly, her fingers tangling in the lapels of his jacket as she pulled him closer. The cool leather of the seat beneath her was a stark contrast to the heat radiating between them, their breaths mingling as the kiss deepened.
When they finally broke apart, both of them slightly breathless, she grinned up at him, her confidence as unshakable as ever.
“Told you I’d get what I wanted,” she murmured.
Oscar let out a low laugh, shaking his head as his thumb brushed against her cheek. “You’re going to ruin me, princess.”
She leaned in again, her lips ghosting over his. “You’ll survive.”
Oscar’s gaze lingered on her, his lips still tingling from their kiss. He leaned in again, his hand slipping to her waist as his breath ghosted over her lips, but just as he closed the distance, she pulled back.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she settled against the seat, her smile playful yet maddeningly smug. “Patience,” she whispered, her tone dripping with teasing sweetness. “What’s the rush?”
Oscar narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening slightly. “You’re enjoying this too much,” he muttered, his voice low and rough.
“Am I?” she said, tilting her head, her fingers tracing the edge of her seatbelt as though she hadn’t just pulled away from him. “Or am I just keeping you on your toes?”
His lips twitched into a smirk, though there was a dangerous edge to it now. “You like playing games, don’t you?”
Before she could respond, Oscar reached out, his hand tangling in her hair with surprising firmness. The suddenness of it made her breath hitch, her teasing smile faltering for the first time. He pulled her towards him, his grip gentle but commanding, and the shift in his energy sent a spark of heat straight through her.
“You forget,” he murmured, his voice a low growl against her ear, “I don’t like to lose.”
And then he kissed her, harder this time, with none of the hesitation from before. It was all hunger and heat, his lips claiming hers as though he was determined to remind her who was in control. She didn’t resist—in fact, the soft sound that escaped her as he deepened the kiss made it clear she wasn’t protesting at all.
Without breaking the kiss, Oscar shifted her effortlessly. His hands gripped her waist as he pulled her onto his lap, her gown gathering around her as she straddled him. The space in the McLaren was tight, but neither of them seemed to care. Her hands slid up his chest, clutching at his shirt as she kissed him back with equal fervour, her earlier teasing entirely abandoned.
Oscar’s hand moved from her hair to the curve of her back, holding her close as their lips moved in sync, the heat between them building with every second. Her perfume wrapped around him, intoxicating, and the soft hum of her breathing against his skin only made him want more.
When they finally broke apart, her lips were swollen, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. She looked down at him, her composure shaken but her eyes still alight with that same daring spark.
“You’re full of surprises,” she murmured, her voice breathless.
Oscar smirked, his hand still resting on her back as he looked up at her. “And you’re full of trouble,” he countered, his voice low and gravelly. “But I don’t mind.”
She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as she leaned in again, her lips hovering just inches from his. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
Oscar’s hand lingered on her back as he leaned back slightly, his smirk firmly in place. “We should probably head back before someone notices we’re gone,” he said, though the heat in his voice made it clear he wasn’t entirely committed to the idea.
She tilted her head, her fingers tracing along the edge of his collar. “Fine,” she said, her tone soft but full of something mischievous. Then she added, “But can I drive?”
Oscar blinked, surprised, before letting out a low chuckle. “Drive?” He raised a brow, glancing around the interior of the McLaren. “You want to drive this?”
“Why not?” she teased, sliding off his lap into her seat while adjusting her gown. Her hand brushed along the leather of the steering wheel as she looked at him with a grin. “What, don’t think I can handle it?”
He hesitated for a moment. Letting someone else—especially her—behind the wheel of his prized McLaren felt like madness. But there was something about the way she looked at him, that mix of challenge and confidence, that made it impossible to say no.
“Fine,” he said finally, his voice low and measured. “But if you so much as scratch it—”
She laughed, cutting him off as she opened her door ready to claim her seat. “Relax, Oscar. I know how to handle expensive toys.”
He climbed into the passenger seat, watching as she adjusted the seat and placed her hands on the wheel with a kind of natural ease that caught him off guard. She turned the key, and the car roared back to life, purring under her control.
“Careful,” he muttered as she pulled out of the lookout point, her silver gown shimmering in the glow of the dashboard.
But careful wasn’t really her style.
The McLaren glided through the winding streets of Monaco, her movements smooth and deliberate. She drove with the kind of confidence that made it impossible not to watch her—one hand on the wheel, the other shifting gears effortlessly. Her gaze was sharp, focused, but there was a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips, as though she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
Oscar leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on her. There was something undeniably hot about watching her handle the car. The way her fingers gripped the wheel, the slight tilt of her head as she navigated the sharp turns, the soft hum of concentration she made under her breath—it was intoxicating.
His jaw tightened as he shifted in his seat, trying to focus on anything other than the growing heat building inside him. “You’re enjoying this a little too much,” he muttered.
She glanced at him briefly, her smile widening. “What, you don’t think I’m doing a good job?”
“You’re doing fine,” he admitted grudgingly, though his tone betrayed just how much more he was thinking.
But instead of heading back to the gala, she veered off, turning down a quieter road that led toward the waterfront. Oscar frowned, sitting up slightly.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.
She didn’t answer immediately, her smile remaining as she continued to drive. The glow of the city faded slightly as she pulled into the circular drive of a luxury hotel, its grand façade glittering under the night sky.
She parked smoothly, turning off the engine before looking over at him with that same maddeningly smug expression. “Thought we could use a change of scenery,” she said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Oscar stared at her, caught somewhere between annoyance and intrigue. “You know, this wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”
She leaned back in her seat, one hand still resting on the wheel, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Since when do you strike me as a man who follows a plan?”
He opened his mouth to retort, but the sight of her—smug, gorgeous, completely in control—had him swallowing his words. There was no denying it: watching her drive his car, taking charge like that, had done something to him.
“You’re trouble,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with something more than frustration.
Her grin widened, her confidence unwavering as she leaned towards him slightly. “And you love it.”
For a moment, he just looked at her, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. Then, without a word, he leaned in, his hand gripping her jaw as he kissed her again, this time with more intensity than before.
Oscar was just starting to lose himself in the kiss when she abruptly pulled away, leaving him momentarily stunned. She smirked at him, her confidence maddeningly intact, and reached for the car door.
“Wait—what are you doing?” he asked, still catching his breath.
But she didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped out of the McLaren, smoothing her gown as if nothing had happened. Before he could process what was going on, she tossed the car keys to the valet standing nearby. The poor man fumbled but managed to catch them, staring wide-eyed at the sleek car she’d just stepped out of.
“Take care of it,” she said breezily, her tone one of casual authority.
Oscar remained in the passenger seat, stunned. He wasn’t used to people taking charge—especially not with his car—but somehow, the way she did it was effortlessly sexy. She didn’t even glance back at him as she strode toward the grand entrance of the hotel, the soft click of her heels against the pavement leaving him momentarily frozen.
It wasn’t until the valet awkwardly cleared his throat that Oscar snapped out of it. He scrambled out of the car, muttering, “Don’t scratch it,” before hurrying after her.
By the time he reached the hotel lobby, she was already stepping into the lift, her silver gown shimmering under the chandelier’s light. The lift doors were beginning to close, and for a second, he thought she might leave him behind. But just as the gap narrowed, her gaze met his, and she pressed the button to hold the doors.
Oscar stepped in, his breathing slightly uneven—not from the chase, but from the way she was looking at him, all challenge and heat.
“You’re impossible,” he said, his voice low and rough.
She tilted her head, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “You’re the one who followed me.”
The doors slid shut, sealing them inside. The moment they were alone, the tension between them became unbearable. The soft hum of the lift seemed deafening in the silence as Oscar took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers.
“You’re going to drive me insane,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and desire.
Her smile widened, her confidence as infuriating as it was intoxicating. “Good,” she whispered.
That was all it took.
Oscar closed the distance in an instant, backing her against the wall of the lift as his lips found hers again. This time, there was no hesitation, no space for games. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her deeply, his frustration pouring into every movement.
She responded with equal fervour, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, her back pressing against the cold metal of the lift wall. The contrast between the chill of the wall and the heat of his touch sent shivers through her, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she pushed closer, her body arching into his.
Oscar’s hand slid to the small of her back, holding her firmly in place as his lips moved to her jaw, then down to the curve of her neck. Her breath hitched, and he felt the slight tremor that ran through her.
“Still want to play games?” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl.
She let out a soft laugh, her nails grazing the back of his neck as she tilted her head to give him more access. “Only if I keep winning,” she whispered, her voice breathless.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes smouldering. “Not this time.”
Before she could respond, he captured her lips again, silencing whatever quip she was about to throw at him. The kiss was fiery, intense, and left no room for second-guessing. The soft chime of the lift was barely a blip in the haze of their heated embrace. By the time the doors slid open, neither of them made any move to stop. Oscar’s lips were still locked on hers, his hands gripping her waist as though letting go wasn’t an option. She tugged him forward, their steps hurried and uncoordinated as they stumbled out of the lift.
“Which one?” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick and breathless.
She broke the kiss just long enough to motion toward the double doors at the end of the corridor. “Penthouse,” she whispered, her tone teasing but drenched with desire.
Oscar didn’t need more instruction. His hand found hers as they hurried toward the doors, her soft laughter echoing in the hallway as they fumbled to get inside. She reached into her clutch, pulling out the key card and sliding it through the reader with a practiced flick of her wrist. The lock clicked, and before the door could even swing fully open, Oscar had her pinned against the frame, his mouth crashing onto hers again.
She gasped against his lips, her hands finding their way under his jacket, fingers splaying against the hard lines of his chest. He pushed her through the doorway, their movements clumsy but urgent, and the door slammed shut behind them with a soft thud.
The suite was breathtaking, all glittering chandeliers and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of Monaco’s sparkling coastline. But neither of them paid it any mind. She walked him backward toward the plush sofa in the centre of the room, her lips never leaving his.
His hands roamed her body with a possessive hunger, sliding down her back to the curve of her hips. The silky fabric of her gown was smooth beneath his fingertips, but he was already imagining what was underneath. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then to the delicate column of her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her that made his blood run hotter.
Her own hands were equally adventurous, pushing his jacket from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, her impatience making quick work of them as she revealed the toned muscles beneath.
“Impressive,” she murmured, her voice teasing but shaky with anticipation.
Oscar smirked against her skin, his lips grazing the hollow of her throat. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”
Her laugh was cut short by the way his hands gripped her thighs, lifting her slightly as he flipped her toward the sofa. She let out a breathless gasp as he set her down on the edge, his body immediately pressing against hers. His hand trailed up her bare thigh, pushing the slit of her gown further aside as his lips found hers again.
Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she pulled him closer, her own control slipping with every passing second. His other hand travelled south, his touch firm yet teasing as it inched along her skin, setting her nerves alight.
“Still feeling in charge?” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough.
Her response was a soft moan, her head falling back against the cushion as he kissed a line down her neck, his hand exploring further. The sound of her breaths, quick and shallow, filled the air between them, mingling with the faint hum of the city outside.
He smirked, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. “That’s what I thought.”
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