Chapter Text
The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of string lights wrapped around the oversized Christmas tree and the faint snowfall visible through the frost-laced window. Outside, the city slept under a blanket of white, but inside, the air was thick with heat and tension.
Chance lounged on the couch like he owned the damn penthouse—which, tonight, he did. His fedora sat low over his eyes, the white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the hard line of his collarbone. One leg was stretched out, the other bent, boot resting on the coffee table. He looked every inch the smug, dangerous bastard he was.
And there, tangled in the tree like the world’s most expensive ornament, was Mafioso.
White ribbons—thick, silky, and merciless—wrapped around his golden body in intricate, deliberate loops. They bound his arms behind his back, crisscrossed his broad chest, squeezed his thighs and calves until his muscles bulged against the restraint. Ornaments dangled from the ribbons: shiny red baubles brushing his nipples, a golden one swaying teasingly against the hard plane of his abs. A bright yellow star sat crooked on his head, catching the light every time he shifted.
He was hard. Painfully so. His cock strained against the ribbon that looped tightly around the base and up the shaft like a festive cock-ring, the head flushed dark and already leaking.
Chance took a slow sip from the glass of whiskey in his hand, amber eyes gleaming beneath the brim of his hat.
“Comfortable up there, doll?” His voice was low, lazy, dripping with that signature drawl.
Mafioso’s breath hitched. His legs trembled from the strain of balancing on the tree stand, the ribbons digging into his skin in the most delicious way. “F-fuck you, Chance…”
Chance chuckled, dark and rich. He set the glass down and rose, stalking over with deliberate slowness. He stopped just short of the tree, close enough that Mafioso could smell his cologne—leather, smoke, and something sharper, like gun oil.
“Wrong answer.” Chance reached up, fingers tracing the ribbon that circled Mafioso’s throat like a collar. He gave it a light tug, forcing the bound man to arch his back. A soft, broken sound escaped Mafioso’s lips.
Chance’s other hand slid down, palm gliding over the slick, ribbon-wrapped cock. He squeezed once, just enough to make Mafioso’s hips jerk forward instinctively.
“Look at you,” Chance murmured, voice dropping an octave. “All wrapped up for me like a good little present. Been waiting all year for this, haven’t you?”
Mafioso’s head fell back against the branches, pine needles brushing his shoulders. “Nngh—shut up and touch me properly…”
Chance’s grin turned sharp. In one fluid motion he yanked the ribbon around Mafioso’s waist, pulling him forward until the bound man was forced to lean out from the tree, body bowed toward his captor. Chance caught him easily, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other gripped his jaw, tilting his face down.
Their mouths crashed together—rough, hungry, all teeth and tongue. Mafioso moaned into the kiss, desperate and needy, the sound vibrating against Chance’s lips.
When Chance finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected them for a second before breaking.
“Beg,” Chance ordered, thumb brushing over Mafioso’s swollen bottom lip.
Mafioso’s eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide. The star on his head wobbled. “Please… Chance… I need—fuck, I need you inside me. Been tied up like this for hours thinking about your cock splitting me open. Please—”
Chance’s grip tightened. “Good boy.”
He didn’t bother unwrapping him completely. Instead, he spun Mafioso around with surprising strength, pressing the bound man’s chest against the tree trunk. The ribbons held firm, keeping his arms pinned, his legs slightly spread by the way the lower loops forced his stance.
Chance’s hands worked quickly—unbuckling his belt, shoving his slacks down just enough to free his own aching cock. It was thick, heavy, already slick at the tip. He spat into his palm, stroking himself once, twice, before lining up.
No prep. No mercy. Just one long, brutal thrust that buried him to the hilt inside Mafioso’s tight heat.
Mafioso cried out, the sound echoing through the room, half-pain, half-bliss. His body clenched hard around the intrusion, ribbons creaking as he strained against them.
Chance groaned, forehead dropping to the back of Mafioso’s neck. “Fuck… so tight. Always so fucking perfect for me.”
He didn’t wait. He pulled back and slammed in again, setting a punishing rhythm that made the entire tree shake. Ornaments jingled. The star slipped lower on Mafioso’s head. Every thrust drove Mafioso harder against the rough bark, the ribbons biting deeper into his skin, the baubles swinging wildly against his chest and thighs.
Chance’s hand snaked around, fingers wrapping around Mafioso’s neglected cock, stroking in time with his hips.
“You’re gonna come like this,” he growled against Mafioso’s ear, teeth grazing the shell. “Wrapped up, stuffed full of my cock, like the filthy little Christmas slut you are.”
Mafioso sobbed, nodding frantically. “Yes—yes, fuck, Chance—please—”
Chance angled his hips, hitting that spot inside him with every thrust. The wet slap of skin, the creak of ribbons, the desperate sounds falling from Mafioso’s mouth—it all blended into a filthy symphony.
It didn’t take long. Mafioso came with a broken shout, cock pulsing in Chance’s fist, painting the ribbons and the tree trunk with thick ropes of white. His whole body seized, clenching so tightly around Chance that it dragged him over the edge right after.
Chance buried himself deep and came with a low, guttural moan, filling Mafioso until it leaked out around his cock, dripping down the bound man’s thighs.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the soft tinkle of a single ornament still swaying.
Chance pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the nape of Mafioso’s neck, then slowly pulled out. He caught the exhausted, trembling man before he could slump too far, carefully lowering him to the floor amid the pile of brightly wrapped presents.
Mafioso’s eyes were half-lidded, a lazy, sated smile on his face despite the mess of ribbons, cum, and pine needles stuck to his skin.
Chance smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair from Mafioso’s forehead.
“Merry Christmas, doll.”
Mafioso let out a weak laugh, voice hoarse. “Yeah… Merry fuckin’ Christmas.”
He tugged weakly at the ribbons still binding his wrists.
“…Now untie me so I can sit on your face for round two.”
Chance’s grin widened.
“Deal.”