Work Text:
Elliot Builder
Elliot was a hard-working young man in his mid-twenties, the only son of the owner of Builder Brothers’ Pizza. In Robloxia, he was known as the golden boy—sweet, disarmingly handsome (pretty, even), with soft features, beautiful blue eyes, and a smile that could light up the entire dining room. He was the perfect mascot for his father’s restaurant: always polite to customers, quick with a joke, and willing to stay late to help clean up. Everyone loved him.
No one would ever imagine he could be tangled up in something as dark as organized crime.
Yet here he was.
Elliot sat alone at his small kitchen table in his modest one-bedroom apartment, the glow of a single hanging lamp casting long shadows across the scattered papers in front of him. The pizzeria had closed hours ago, but instead of heading straight home like usual, he had taken the late-night bus back to his place with the thick envelope still burning a hole in his backpack. The quiet hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside were the only noises breaking the silence.
His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the documents. Loan agreements. Interest calculations. Threatening notes written in neat, professional handwriting that somehow made them even more terrifying.
Years ago, when the restaurant was on the brink of bankruptcy and his father was desperate, he had borrowed a massive sum from the mafia. They never forgot a debt—and they never forgave one either.
Tonight, just as Elliot was locking up the pizzeria, two sketchy-looking Italian men had strolled in. At first, they seemed almost friendly. They ordered two large pepperoni pizzas, cracked a few jokes about the cheesy crust, and ate slowly while chatting about the weather. But the moment the last slice was gone, their expressions changed. One of them slid the thick envelope across the counter along with a cold, quiet warning:
“Tell your father to pay back what he owes… or there will be consequences.”
The words still echoed in Elliot’s head like a bad dream. He shivered, pulling his hoodie tighter around himself even though the apartment wasn’t particularly cold. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios—broken windows at the shop, smashed ovens, or worse. He pictured his father’s stubborn face and felt a wave of helpless anger rise in his chest.
He knew his father could pay the debt. The restaurant had been doing well for years now. They had the money. But for some reason Elliot could never understand, his father refused to settle it. Every time the topic came up, he’d wave it off with a grunt and change the subject, as if ignoring the problem would make it disappear.
Elliot didn’t know why. Pride? Greed? Some twisted sense of defiance? Whatever it was, it was putting all of them in danger—Elliot included.
A soft, frustrated whine escaped his lips as he pushed himself up from the table. His right leg ached from standing on his feet for twelve straight hours, the old injury from a childhood accident flaring up again. He limped slowly across the living room toward his bedroom, the floorboards creaking under his weight.
The moment he reached his bed, he collapsed onto it face-first, burying his face in the cool pillow. The weight of the situation pressed down on him like a heavy stone. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to call his father right now and demand answers.
Instead, he just lay there in the quiet of his apartment, heart pounding, wondering how long they had before the “consequences” started showing up at the pizzeria… or worse, at his own front door.
Elliot lay there staring at the ceiling for a long moment, the weight of everything pressing on him. He couldn’t just lie here doing nothing. With a heavy sigh, he rolled onto his side and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He tapped Lulu’s name and waited.
It rang twice before she picked up.
“Heyy pretty boy,” Lulu said, her voice sleepy and teasing, followed by a big yawn. “What’s up? You never call this late. I was just about to crash.” Elliot kicked off his shorts and tossed them on the floor. He pulled the phone closer as he got comfortable on his bed in just his boxers and hoodie.
“Dealing with my dad’s dumb mistakes again,” he grunted. “Ooh… what happened this time?” Lulu asked. He heard her turn something off in the background, and the noise disappeared. “You sound pissed. Tell me.” Elliot ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed. “My dad borrowed money from the mafia when I was a kid. The restaurant was doing terrible back then. He never paid it back. Tonight, right as I was closing up, two sketchy Italian guys walked in. They ordered pizza, acted all normal, and then handed me a bunch of papers with a straight-up threat. ‘Tell your father to pay what he owes or there will be consequences.’”
Lulu was quiet for a second. “Ooh.. the mafia? For real? That sounds crazy. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just freaking out,” Elliot muttered. “I don’t know what the hell to do. I know he can pay it back now. The place’s been making decent money for years. But every time I try to bring it up, he just shuts me down. Says it’s not my problem or changes the subject. I don’t even know if I should call him tonight. He’ll probably just get mad at me for bothering him.”
“Damn,” Lulu said. “That’s f##### up. He’s putting you in the middle of this s###. Can’t he just handle his own mess? How much do they want anyway?”
Elliot thought for a moment. “I forgot the exact number, but it’s definitely over 40k Robux. Probably more with all the interest they’ve added on. It’s not nothing.” “Jesus,” she breathed. “That’s a lot. No wonder you’re stressed. You’ve been working your a## off at that place every day, and now this? Your dad’s an idiot for letting it get this far.”
Elliot let out a tired laugh. “Tell me about it. I’m supposed to be the nice guy behind the counter, smiling at customers all day. Not the one getting handed mafia threats over pepperoni pizza.”
Lulu hummed. “Look, you shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. You want me to come over? I can throw on a hoodie and catch the late bus. We can talk it through, maybe figure out what to say to your dad tomorrow. Or we can just vent until you feel better.”
“You’d really do that?” Elliot asked, surprised. “It’s almost midnight. I don’t want to drag you out just because my family’s a mess.”
“Hey, that’s what best friends are for!” she replied, sounding more awake now. “Besides, if these guys are serious, you shouldn’t be sitting there by yourself worrying all night. We’ll think of something. Maybe you talk to him in the morning when he’s not half-asleep. Or hell, maybe I can go with you if you want backup.”
Elliot closed his eyes, feeling a little bit of the tightness in his chest ease up. “Thanks, Lu. I really needed that. Maybe… yeah, coming over could help. I don’t think I’m gonna sleep much anyway.”
“Alright, give me like twenty minutes,” Lulu said. “I’ll text you when I’m on the bus.”
(too lazy to extend their conversation, i wanna get to the fuckin)
April 15, 20XX
8:35 PM
The phone barely finished ringing before the kid picked up. Mafioso leaned back in his worn leather chair, a smirk already pulling at his lips. He could hear the fear in the boy’s voice right away.
“How much was it again…?” Elliot asked, all shaky and quiet.
Mafioso let the silence sit for a second, savoring it. “150k Robux,” he said, voice low and steady, the words rolling out smooth but sharp.
He could practically hear the kid’s breath hitch. “A-And when is the deadline?” “Two weeks,” Mafioso answered, ice creeping into his tone. “You don’t come up with the money? You and your old man’s heads are gonna look perfect on a f#####’ stick.” He finished with a low, mocking laugh that he knew would rattle the kid.
There was a long pause. He heard Elliot gulp hard. “Ah… okay… I’ll um… try to…”
The kid didn’t even finish before Mafioso hung up with a sharp tap. He tossed the phone onto the desk and let out a quiet snicker, shaking his head.
“What a cute kid,” he muttered, still grinning.
Contractee walked over and slid a hand onto Mafioso’s waist. “Shouldn’t we… y’know… call and threaten his dad instead of him?” he asked carefully. Mafioso turned his head slow, tilting it as he stared the man down. “The only way I’m ever gettin’ a hold of that damn bastard and seein’ my money again is through the son. I called the old man ten times already — he ignores every single one. Kid’s the soft spot. He’ll crack faster and actually deliver the message.” He snarled the last part and jabbed his finger hard into Contractee’s chest, making him flinch. “You got a problem with how I handle my business?”
Contractee swallowed and stepped back quick. “No… yeah, I mean — got it,” he mumbled, eyes down.
Mafioso held the stare for another beat, then smirked, satisfied. He reached for the cigar box, pulled one out, lit it with a flick, and took a slow drag. Smoke curled up as he spoke again, voice casual now.
“You and the boys want pizza tonight?”
“Again?” Contractee’s face lit up, fear gone in a flash. “Hell f#####’ yeah! That Builder Brothers joint makes the best pizza. I’m in.”
Mafioso chuckled low and dark, tapping ash into the tray. “Good. Tell the crew we’re headin’ back over there later. We’ll grab a few pies, maybe sit in the corner booth and watch the kid sweat if he’s still around. Might as well enjoy the food while we wait for him to convince his stubborn old man to finally pay up. Two weeks ain’t long — and I don’t like waitin’.”
Contractee nodded fast. “I’ll let the guys know. You think the kid’s actually gonna talk to his dad tonight?” Mafioso shrugged, taking another puff. “Don’t matter. If he don’t, we’ll just pay the boy another friendly visit. Either way, that debt’s gettin’ settled. One way or another.”
Mafioso watched Contractee hurry off to round up the boys, the guy’s footsteps echoing down the hallway until everything went quiet again. He was finally alone with his thoughts. The cigar between his teeth had burned down halfway, so he took it out, tapped the ash into the cracked glass ashtray, and leaned back in his chair for a moment, letting the smoke linger in the air.
He stood up slowly, joints cracking after sitting too long, and walked over to the cluttered metal desk in the corner. Papers were scattered everywhere — old records, photos, addresses. He shuffled through them until he found the thin folder he wanted.
Elliot Builder.
Mafioso stared at the name typed neatly at the top. The kid was young, mid-twenties at most. Everyone in Robloxia knew that face — the golden boy who smiled behind the counter at Builder Brothers’ Pizza, always polite, always quick with a “thank you” and an extra slice for regulars. He’d seen the boy himself a few times when they stopped in for late-night pies. Soft smile, warm eyes, the kind of pretty that made people look twice.
He flipped the page and scanned the rest of the information, muttering under his breath as he read.
“Mid-twenties… only son of the owner… no kids… not in a relationship…” His eyes narrowed when he reached the next line. “M-mal— huh?”
He brought the paper closer to the desk lamp, squinting at the small printed text.
Assigned Female at Birth — Female to Male.
Mafioso let out a low, rough snicker that turned into a quiet chuckle. He took another slow drag from the cigar, letting the smoke curl up toward the stained ceiling while the pieces clicked together in his head. It made sense now. The soft, almost delicate features. The smooth skin and those big, expressive eyes that lit up when he handed over a box. Sure, the kid looked plenty masculine too — no obvious chest, a voice that had settled into something deeper, and the confident way he moved after long hours on his feet. But there was still something undeniably feminine underneath it all, something soft and inviting that made Mafioso’s gaze linger a little longer than it should have.
A sweet, pretty boy.
He wondered how many people actually knew besides family and a couple of close friends. Probably not many. The kid kept it quiet, and in a city like this, that was smart. But if you really looked — if you let your eyes trace the gentle curve of his jaw, the way his lips formed that polite smile, the subtle sway in his hips when he turned to grab a menu — you could see it. Nothing like the rough, rugged men Mafioso usually surrounded himself with: scarred knuckles, thick necks, and faces that had taken more punches than soft touches.
Mafioso smirked to himself, tapping ash into the tray. The thought sent a low, warm spark through him. “What a little secret, huh?” he muttered, voice dropping lower. He could picture the boy again — standing behind the counter in that tight apron, cheeks flushing just a little when someone complimented his smile. Sweet and soft… almost too tempting for his own good.
He folded the paper neatly and set it aside on top of the pile, but his mind kept drifting back to it, imagining how that soft skin might feel under rougher hands, how that pretty voice might sound when it wasn’t steady and polite. It added an extra layer of interest to the whole situation. Threatening some average guy was one thing. Having this kind of pretty, secret boy caught in the middle? That made things far more entertaining.
Mafioso stood there for another minute, cigar burning between his fingers, before he heard footsteps coming back down the hall. Contractee poked his head in, looking eager.
“Boys are ready whenever you are, boss. They’re already talkin’ about extra cheese and sausage.”
Mafioso snorted and stubbed out the cigar. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on, the leather creaking. “Tell ‘em to hold their horses. We’ll head over in twenty. I want the kid to have a little time to think after that call.” He headed for the door, then paused and glanced back at the folder with a slow, suggestive smirk. “And make sure nobody causes trouble tonight. We’re just eatin’… and maybe gettin’ a better look at the scenery.”
Contractee grinned, catching the tone. “Got it, boss.”
Mafioso stepped out into the hallway, the rest of the crew already waiting near the exit, laughing and joking about pizza toppings. As they piled into the cars and pulled out into the cool night air, his mind kept drifting back to that pretty boy behind the counter.
This job just got a whole lot more interesting.
——
The cool night air felt good after a long shift. Elliot stood leaning against the brick wall just outside Builder Brothers’ Pizza, the neon sign above the door buzzing softly behind him. Dued1 paced back and forth on the sidewalk, still clearly worked up.
“I know! I hate how he’s trying so hard to be all friendly with me after what he did!” Dued1 groaned, throwing his hands up. “The audacity to come back like nothing happened after all that bullsh##!”
Elliot leaned his head back against the wall and let out a sweet little giggle, arms loosely crossed over his chest. “I uh… heard he has a kid now,” he mumbled, almost hesitant to bring it up.
Dued1 stopped pacing and gasped dramatically, eyes wide. “Who the hell let him hit?! For f##### sake!” he yelled, voice echoing slightly down the quiet street.
Elliot’s cheeks flushed pink and he quickly turned his face away, embarrassed by how loud his friend was being. “Calm down… I’ve seen what the kid looks like and… I dunno what gender it is. It might be a boy, but it looks nothing like him. Nothing at all. The kid is all red and looks like a Drakobloxxer or something.”
Dued1 let out a long, exaggerated groan and rubbed his face with both hands. “That’s even worse! A little red Drakobloxxer running around with his genes? Jesus Christ… I can’t even picture it.”
Elliot smiled softly, watching his friend’s dramatic reaction. He pushed off the wall a little and glanced around the empty street, making sure no one was listening in. “Ugh, you don’t even seem that hostile toward him anymore,” Dued1 hummed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and giving Elliot a pointed look. “What happened to the guy who used to complain about exploiters all the time?”
Elliot turned to the side, suddenly very interested in the cracks in the sidewalk. “I don’t like him. I dislike exploiters, sure… but hate is a really strong word. At the end of the day, it’s just a bunch of dorks committing crimes on Roblox. The admins will deal with them eventually. There’s not much I can do about it anyway.
”
Dued1 pouted and rolled his eyes hard, stepping closer so he was standing right in front of Elliot. “Y’know Elliot, you really see life as if it’s all sunshine and rainbows, don’t ya?” he mumbled, looking the other man up and down with a mix of annoyance and reluctant fondness. “Always so nice and forgiving. It’s almost annoying how sweet you are all the time.”
Elliot blushed harder, a soft pink spreading across his cheeks. He turned his face away again, unable to meet Dued1’s gaze. “Shut up… I’m not that bad.”
“Oh, you are,” Dued1 shot back with a laugh, nudging Elliot’s shoulder lightly. “Looking all soft and pretty while the rest of us are ready to throw hands over every little thing. It’s not fair, man. How do you stay so calm?”
Elliot let out another quiet giggle and shrugged, still avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know… I just try not to let stuff get to me too much. Getting all angry doesn’t change anything. It just makes me feel worse.”
Dued1 sighed dramatically and leaned against the wall beside him, their shoulders almost touching. “You’re hopeless. Cute, but hopeless. One day some exploiter is gonna push you too far and you’re still gonna say ‘oh it’s okay, the admins will handle it.’”
“Maybe,” Elliot admitted with a small smile, finally glancing back at his friend. “But until then, I’d rather not walk around hating everyone. Life’s already stressful enough without adding more drama.”
Dued1 shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a reluctant grin. “Sunshine and rainbows, I swear. One of these days I’m gonna drag you into my hate club whether you like it or not.” Elliot just laughed softly, the sound light and warm in the quiet night air.
“Yeah yeah… anyways, I should probably go back inside,” Elliot giggled, rubbing his arms. “It’s kinda chilly out here.” Dued1 sighed dramatically and waved a hand. “Fine, fine. I gotta go anyways. I have very important stuff to do.”
Elliot raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh yeah? Like flirting with—”
“SHUT UP!” Dued1 cut him off, laughing as he gave Elliot a playful shove on the shoulder. Elliot laughed along with him, still snickering as he pulled the door open. “See you later, drama king.”
He stepped back into the warm glow of the pizzeria and closed the door behind him, the little bell above it jingling softly. The place was quiet now — just the low hum of the refrigerators and the faint smell of melted cheese and tomato sauce lingering in the air. Elliot shook off the chill and walked behind the counter, straightening a few menus before settling in at the cash register.
He’d barely been standing there for a minute when he noticed a tall figure stepping through the entrance. Elliot’s customer-service smile came on automatically, bright and sweet.
“Helloo!! Sorry for being gone so long,” he called out cheerfully. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to come this late. How many I… help… y-yo— oh…”
His voice trailed off as recognition hit him like a cold splash of water.
Mafioso stood there, tall and imposing in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips. A lit cigar was pinched between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily upward. He looked completely at ease, like he hadn’t threatened Elliot and his family just hours earlier.
“Hey, sugar,” Mafioso said casually, his voice low and rough. He took a slow step closer to the counter, eyes locked on Elliot. “Miss me already?” Elliot’s heart jumped into his throat. The friendly smile on his face froze, then faltered completely. His hands gripped the edge of the register tighter as a flush of nerves — and something else he didn’t want to name — crept up his neck.
“I… um…” Elliot swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how empty the pizzeria was and how alone they were. “W-what are you doing here?”
Mafioso’s smirk widened just a fraction. He took another casual puff from the cigar before tapping the ash into a small tray on the counter. “What? Can’t a guy come back for a late-night slice? Your pizza’s the best in town, after all.” His gaze lingered on Elliot a little too long, tracing the soft lines of his face. “Besides… I figured we should have a proper chat. Face to face this time.”
Elliot’s pulse raced as he stood frozen behind the counter. The empty pizzeria suddenly felt far too quiet, with only the soft hum of appliances filling the space. Mafioso remained relaxed at the front, cigar held loosely in his thick fingers while smoke drifted upward.
The taller man took another slow puff, eyes tracing over Elliot without hurry. “You look even better when you’re nervous, sugar,” he murmured, voice carrying that familiar rough edge. “That flush on your cheeks suits you nicely.”
Heat spread across Elliot’s face and down his neck. He gripped the counter edge, searching for a steady reply. “We’re closed. I was about to lock up after talking with a friend outside. If you need something quick—”
“Closed?” Mafioso interrupted smoothly, stepping nearer until only the wooden surface divided them. He rested one elbow down, bringing his presence closer. The scent of tobacco and warm cologne reached Elliot. “Door was unlocked when I entered. Almost seemed like an invitation.”
Elliot swallowed, pulse thumping louder. He glanced toward the dim hallway leading to storage and the office, wishing someone would appear. “I stepped out for a minute. Didn’t expect company this late.”
Mafioso’s smirk grew. “Expect me? No, I suppose not.” His gaze dropped briefly to the loose collar of Elliot’s uniform, then rose again to meet those wide eyes. “But here we are. Face to face is better than any phone call, don’t you agree? Your voice sounds softer in person. Sweeter.”
Elliot shifted his weight, the old ache in his leg reminding him of the long day. He noticed how Mafioso’s broad frame filled the space, the way his jacket stretched across strong shoulders, and the faint scar that tugged at his lip when he smiled. It felt wrong to notice any of it.
“I said I’d speak with my dad,” Elliot whispered, voice unsteady. “I’m working on it. He can be difficult sometimes—”
Mafioso lifted the cigar lightly, cutting the words short. “No rush tonight, pretty boy. Two weeks gives plenty of room.” His attention lingered again, following the curve of Elliot’s jaw and the gentle lines of his figure. “You spend hours here every shift, moving constantly, reaching for trays, offering that warm smile to strangers. Must wear you down. Those hips probably need relief from all the standing.”
Elliot’s breath faltered. His fingers tightened until knuckles paled. The comment landed heavy, wrapped in casual tone yet loaded with implication. It sent warmth pooling low in his stomach despite the fear.
Mafioso caught the reaction and leaned in slightly, smirk deepening. “Easy now. I’m not causing problems this evening. Just craving some pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. For me and my boys, of course.” He gestured toward the back with a tilt of his head. “And while we wait.. you and I could chat properly. No interruptions. Just us in the quiet.”
His dark eyes flicked to the hallway once more, then returned to Elliot’s flushed expression. “Or I could step behind there and assist you directly. I know how to use these hands when needed.”
Elliot’s thoughts scattered. Heat flooded his body as he opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally he gave a small, shaky nod toward the kitchen area. “I can prepare the pie. Just… wait here a moment.”
Mafioso’s deep chuckle trailed after him as Elliot turned away. The man stayed put at the counter, but his gaze followed every step, observing the subtle sway of Elliot’s movements with clear appreciation.
Elliot paused halfway to the kitchen, shoulders tensing at the sound of Mafioso’s deep voice.
“Hold on, sugar. Forget about the food.”
He turned slowly, fingers still hovering near the apron hook. Mafioso had shifted closer to the counter, both hands braced on the surface, cigar abandoned in the tray.
“I didn’t come back for slices tonight,” the taller man said, tone low and deliberate. “We both understand the real reason I’m here. That balance your father carries. Two weeks on the clock, but arrangements can shift if the terms change.” Elliot’s throat tightened. He stayed planted in place, gripping the edge of his hoodie. “What kind of terms?”
Mafioso’s gaze held steady, dark and intense. A faint smirk curved his mouth. “Alternative ways to balance the scales, pretty boy. Options that don’t require immediate cash. You’ve got plenty to offer in a spot like this.” His eyes moved slowly over Elliot’s frame, tracing the gentle dip at his waist and the way his clothes sat against his hips. “Soft assets. Appealing ones. The sort that make negotiations far more interesting.”
Warmth flooded Elliot’s cheeks and spread downward. He shifted his stance, suddenly aware of every inch of space between them. Mafioso looked commanding up close — solid build, strong hands, that rugged jaw shadowed with stubble. The raw confidence rolling off him sent an unwelcome spark through Elliot’s body. He knew he should feel only fear, yet something hotter flickered beneath it.
“I… I’m not sure what you mean,” Elliot managed, voice quiet and uneven. “I told you I’d speak with him. He’s difficult, but I’m trying—”
Mafioso lifted one hand slightly, cutting the protest short. “No rush this evening. Plenty of time left.” His attention lingered again, following the soft line of Elliot’s neck and the subtle curves hidden beneath his clothes. “You spend long hours here, constantly moving, reaching, smiling for customers. Must leave you worn out. Those hips could probably use some real relief from all that standing.”
Elliot’s breath stuttered. Heat pooled low in his stomach despite the anxiety gripping his chest. The suggestion hung heavy in the air, wrapped in casual words but loaded with intent. He pressed his thighs together without thinking, pulse quickening at the contrast between his own softness and the man’s rough edges.
Mafioso noticed and leaned in a fraction, smirk deepening. “Relax. I’m not here to complicate things tonight. But picture this — you step into the back with me, let me handle the details my way. A few hours of your attention, your presence… and I could cut a solid portion off what’s owed. Maybe even more if you prove especially cooperative.”
Elliot bit his lip, mind racing. The images flashed unbidden: strong hands guiding him, that gravelly voice close to his ear, the sheer size of the man filling the small space. It felt dangerous. Reckless. Yet a secret part of him found Mafioso undeniably attractive — the power, the control, the way he looked at Elliot like something worth claiming.
“This is insane,” Elliot whispered, cheeks burning. “You threatened me earlier, and now you’re offering… this?”
Mafioso gave a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through the quiet restaurant. “Life rarely stays simple, sugar. And you’re standing there with that pretty blush like part of you is already curious.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with clear hunger. “Door locks easy. Back area stays private. No one needs to know how you decide to handle the balance. One evening. You give me what I want — nice and willing — and I knock fifty thousand off immediately. Seems like a decent exchange for someone as tempting as you.”
Elliot hesitated, heart hammering. Logic screamed at him to refuse, to walk away, to call for help. But the way Mafioso watched him — appreciative, possessive, heated — made resistance weaken faster than expected. Deep down, he couldn’t deny how drawn he felt to the older man’s commanding presence.
After several tense seconds, Elliot drew in a shaky breath and gave the smallest nod.
“…Alright,” he murmured, voice barely steady. “But only this once. And you swear to lower the amount?”
Mafioso’s expression shifted into something sharper, more satisfied. He straightened and nodded toward the dimly lit hallway.
“Lead the way, pretty boy. Back room. Let’s talk privately.”
Elliot’s legs carried him forward almost automatically, moving past the ovens into the narrow corridor. His pulse thundered as he pushed open the storage room door. The soft click of the lock behind them sealed the quiet space.
Mafioso stepped in close, body heat already pressing against Elliot’s back before the latch fully caught.
Elliot whimpered softly, the sound trembling in his throat. Anything to bring that crushing debt down. He still couldn’t believe he was whoring himself out like this, offering his body to settle the score.
“I-I’m uh…” Elliot gulped.
He gasped sharply when Mafioso’s large, rough hand slid between his legs and cupped his cunt firmly through the thin fabric of his pants. The sudden pressure made his knees weaken.
“I know,” Mafioso murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I don’t mind. Just gotta be careful — you on birth control, kid?” Elliot gave a small, shaky nod. The motion drew a satisfied grin across Mafioso’s face.
“Good.”
Mafioso’s palm pressed harder, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over Elliot’s clothed pussy. He could feel the growing wetness soaking through the material, the heat radiating against his fingers as Elliot’s folds became slick and swollen under his touch. The fabric was already damp, clinging to the soft, puffy lips of his cunt.
“Ah… and I’m… I’ve never done this before,” Elliot whimpered, voice breaking with embarrassment.
Mafioso’s grin widened, dark hunger flashing in his eyes. Oh fuck yeah. A virgin pussy? All mine tonight.
He leaned down, dragging his hot tongue slowly up the side of Elliot’s neck before sinking his teeth in with a gentle, possessive bite. Elliot shivered hard, a fresh rush of slick coating his pussy as arousal pulsed through him.
“I’ll take good care’a ya, baby,” Mafioso murmured against his skin, accent thick and rough. “Ya gonna wanna come runnin’ back to me after I’m done wit’ ya.”
He whispered the words right against Elliot’s ear, breath hot and heavy. Elliot blushed harder, face burning as his cunt throbbed under Mafioso’s relentless rubbing. His hips twitched forward involuntarily, chasing the friction even as shame and desire warred inside him.
Mafioso kept stroking him through the soaked fabric, fingers pressing and teasing the sensitive mound of his pussy, feeling every twitch and every new wave of wetness. He rubbed firmer now, dragging his palm up and down the length of Elliot’s slit, pressing the damp cloth right against his swollen clit.
“You’re gettin’ real wet already,” Mafioso growled low, voice rough. “Never been touched like this, huh? That pretty little cunt’s drippin’ for me.”
Elliot’s legs trembled. He bit his lip hard, trying to hold back another whimper, but it slipped out anyway as Mafioso’s thick fingers kept working him over, teasing the entrance of his hole through the shorts.
The storage room felt stifling now, thick with the scent of arousal and the faint trace of cigar smoke still clinging to Mafioso’s clothes. Mafioso’s free hand slid up Elliot’s side, gripping his waist possessively and pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together.
“Easy now, sugar,” Mafioso murmured, lips brushing Elliot’s neck again as his hand continued its firm rhythm between Elliot’s thighs. “We got all night. Let me show ya how good this can feel. Gonna make that pussy feel real nice before I even get inside ya.”
Elliot’s breath came in short, desperate pants. His cunt ached with need, slick soaking through his shorts and coating Mafioso’s fingers. Despite the nerves twisting in his stomach, his body kept responding — hips rolling subtly against the older man’s hand, chasing more of that delicious pressure.
Mafioso chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against Elliot’s skin. “That’s it, baby. Grind on my hand. Show me how much ya want it.”
Elliot tried to steady his breathing, chest heaving as he fought to form words. “W-What’s your… hah… name…?” he managed between soft gasps.
Mafioso smirked, dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His real name was Don Sonnellino, but the boy didn’t need to know that. It would’ve been satisfying hearing this pretty thing moan his actual name, but some secrets were better kept for now.
“Call me Mafioso,” he whispered hotly into Elliot’s ear. At the same time, he pressed down harder on the swollen clit beneath the soaked fabric, rubbing firm, steady circles.
Elliot groaned, the low sound quickly melting into a needy whine. “Hah… M-Mafioso…?” he whimpered, voice cracking with desperation.
The older man felt his cock twitch hard inside his pants. That soft, broken whine was doing dangerous things to him.
“Mhm…” Mafioso hummed, swallowing thickly as he continued working Elliot’s cunt. His fingers moved with purpose, pressing the damp cloth tight against the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing fresh wetness with every pass.
Elliot’s hips jerked forward on their own, chasing the pressure. His thighs trembled, knees growing weak as pleasure built steadily inside him. The small storage room felt warmer, the air heavy with the scent of his growing arousal.
“That’s it,” Mafioso murmured against his neck, voice low and rough. “Say it again for me. Let me hear ya.”
Elliot’s head fell back against the wall, another soft whine slipping out as Mafioso’s hand kept its steady rhythm between his legs. Slick continued to soak through his pants, coating the older man’s fingers and dripping slowly down his inner thighs.
Mafioso’s free hand gripped Elliot’s waist more firmly, holding him upright while his own cock strained against the front of his pants. He wanted to take his time, to feel every reaction, every shudder. The boy was falling apart so beautifully under his touch, and Mafioso was in no hurry to stop.
He leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of Elliot’s ear once more. “Ya doin’ good, baby. Just keep feelin’ it.”
Elliot’s head was still tilted back against the wall, soft, broken whines slipping from his parted lips as Mafioso’s thick fingers continued their relentless rhythm, rubbing slow, firm circles over his soaked cunt through the thin, clinging fabric. His legs trembled violently beneath him, knees threatening to buckle with every teasing press.
Without any warning, Mafioso’s large hands seized Elliot’s waist in a bruising grip and spun him around with rough efficiency. Elliot let out a startled gasp, his palms slapping against the cool wall as his chest was shoved forward. Mafioso crowded in immediately from behind, his much larger frame pinning Elliot firmly in place. The younger man’s stomach and flushed cheek pressed flush against the smooth, chilled surface, trapping him completely.
“Stay right there,” Mafioso growled low against his ear, voice deep and commanding. “Don’t you fuckin’ move.”
Elliot’s breath hitched, heart hammering wildly. “M-Mafioso… wait—ah!”
Before he could finish the thought, Mafioso’s hands moved with possessive urgency. He hooked strong fingers into the waistband of Elliot’s long pants and underwear, yanking both garments down in one harsh, impatient motion. The fabric dragged roughly down to Elliot’s mid-thighs, leaving his bare ass and dripping pussy suddenly exposed to the cool air of the room. Elliot shivered hard as the sudden chill kissed his overheated, swollen folds.
Mafioso didn’t waste a second. His hand slid between Elliot’s legs from behind, cupping the bare, slick heat of his cunt possessively. Then, without hesitation, he delivered a firm, sharp slap right against the sensitive flesh. The wet, obscene sound echoed sharply in the small space.
Elliot jolted forward with a sharp whimper, his body jerking against the wall. “Fuck—! That… that stings,” he breathed out shakily, though his hips twitched back almost immediately, seeking more.
“Fuck, look at ya,” Mafioso muttered, his voice thick with hunger as he watched the soft, puffy folds jiggle from the impact, fresh slick already dripping down Elliot’s inner thighs. He slapped the glistening cunt again, harder this time, savoring the way Elliot’s whole body reacted. “Already this wet for me? You’re makin’ such a mess, pretty boy.”
Elliot’s cheek stayed pressed to the wall, his eyes fluttering half-shut as another shaky moan escaped him. “I-I can’t help it… you keep teasing me like this,” he protested weakly, voice trembling with both embarrassment and arousal. His hips rolled back again instinctively, pressing his ass toward the older man despite his words.
Mafioso kept one hand firmly on Elliot’s hip, holding him steady, while his other hand palmed his own aching cock through the front of his pants. He rubbed the hard, throbbing length roughly over the fabric, squeezing and stroking himself as he continued to toy with Elliot’s exposed pussy. Another wet slap landed, making Elliot cry out softly.
He leaned in closer, his broad chest pressing against Elliot’s back, hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of his neck and ear.
“Ya feel that?” Mafioso murmured, voice low and rough as he delivered another firm slap to the dripping folds, the wet smack filling the air. “This greedy little pussy’s already so eager, clenchin’ around nothin’..”
Elliot whimpered louder, his body trembling with every slap and every deliberate stroke of those thick fingers that teased up and down his slit, spreading the slickness without ever pushing inside. “I can’t believe how.. g-good this is..” he admitted breathlessly, pressing his forehead harder against the cool wall. “You're being so mean… just—just touch me properly already.”
Mafioso chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against Elliot’s back. His hand never stopped working his own cock through his pants, the fabric now visibly damp with pre-cum as he ground his hips lightly against the curve of Elliot’s ass, letting him feel the heavy outline of his erection.
“Mean?” he repeated, amusement lacing his tone as he rubbed two thick fingers slowly along the dripping slit again, parting the swollen lips teasingly. “Nah, I’m just enjoyin’ the view. Look how pretty you are like this—shakin’, drippin’, beggin’ without even sayin’ the words.” He slapped the slick cunt once more, lighter this time, almost playful. “Tell me how bad you want it, Elliot. Use that pretty voice.”
Elliot let out a frustrated little whine, his thighs quivering as more wetness slicked down his skin. “I… I want it so bad,” he confessed, voice cracking slightly with need. “Please, Mafioso… stop teasing me like this. I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind.”
Mafioso’s lips brushed the shell of Elliot’s ear, his voice dropping even lower, husky and full of dark promise.
“Good boy. That’s what I like to hear.”
Mafioso’s thick fingers kept teasing along the dripping slit for a few more torturous seconds, spreading the slickness and slapping the swollen folds lightly. Then, without any warning or gentleness, he pushed two thick fingers straight into Elliot’s tight, soaked cunt in one rough, forceful thrust.
Elliot’s eyes flew wide open, a loud, broken cry tearing from his throat as the sudden stretch burned through him. “Ah—! It hurts—oh god, it’s too much—!”
Mafioso didn’t pause for even a second. He immediately started pumping his fingers in and out with brutal speed, driving them deep on every thrust. The wet, obscene squelching sounds echoed loudly in the small room as his thick digits stretched Elliot open without mercy. He curled them harshly on each withdrawal, dragging roughly against that sensitive spot inside, then slammed them back in even harder, knuckles slapping wetly against Elliot’s folds.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Mafioso growled low, voice rough with satisfaction as he kept the punishing rhythm going.
Elliot’s cheek stayed smashed against the cold wall, his body jerking forward sharply with every powerful plunge. The initial burn was sharp and intense, a stinging ache that made his breath hitch and his eyes water, but it quickly began twisting into something hotter, deeper, and far more overwhelming. His hips twitched back instinctively, chasing the rough intrusion despite the pain, his pussy gushing around the thick fingers with every hard thrust.
“It burns— but it feels so good— too good— I can’t—!” Elliot gasped out, voice shaky and fragmented.
Mafioso added a third thick finger on the next thrust, forcing Elliot’s tight walls to stretch even wider around the sudden increase in girth. The burn flared up again, sharper this time, but the overwhelming fullness sent waves of intense pleasure crashing through Elliot’s body.
He fucked him with those three fingers relentlessly, scissoring them roughly to open him up further, twisting and curling them deep inside with every brutal stroke. The slick, filthy sounds grew louder and wetter, Elliot’s arousal coating Mafioso’s hand and dripping down his own trembling thighs in messy rivulets.
Elliot’s legs shook violently beneath him, knees threatening to give out completely as the relentless fingering continued. Every hard thrust knocked the air out of his lungs, the mix of stinging pain and flooding ecstasy making his head spin. He could feel every ridge and knuckle of Mafioso’s fingers dragging along his sensitive inner walls, the rough treatment turning the ache into a throbbing, addictive heat that made his entire body burn.
“There— right there— it’s too much— my legs— I think I’m gonna—!” Elliot babbled, words tumbling out in a desperate, high-pitched rush between broken moans.
Mafioso leaned in closer, his hot breath brushing the back of Elliot’s neck as he drove his fingers even deeper and faster. “That’s it… take it,” he muttered, low and commanding, before curling his fingers harshly against that sweet spot again.
The pleasure built relentlessly, layering on top of the lingering sting until it felt like every nerve in Elliot’s body was alight. His stomach tightened, thighs quivering uncontrollably, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. The pain had mostly faded now, replaced by an intense, toe-curling bliss that made his eyes roll back and his mouth fall open in continuous, needy whimpers. Still, every particularly deep or rough thrust brought back a sharp reminder of the stretch, blending the sensations into something dizzyingly addictive.
Elliot’s blabbering grew more incoherent as the overwhelming rhythm continued. “Feels— feels so full— don’t stop— it hurts but I like it— oh god—!”
His entire body trembled uncontrollably, pressed helplessly against the cool wall as Mafioso’s thick fingers drove into him again and again—rough, fast, and merciless. The brutal pleasure kept climbing higher and higher, pain and ecstasy twisting together until Elliot could barely think straight, his soaked cunt pulsing and clenching desperately around the invading fingers, desperate for more even as the intensity threatened to overwhelm him completely.
Mafioso showed no signs of slowing. He kept fingering him with the same hard, demanding pace, twisting his wrist to grind his knuckles against Elliot’s most sensitive spots, drawing out more slick and more broken, desperate sounds from the younger man with every relentless thrust.
Mafioso finally dragged his fingers out of Elliot’s clenching heat with a lewd, wet pop, leaving the younger man gasping and empty. Elliot barely had time to whimper at the loss before he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down behind him.
The heavy weight of Mafioso’s thick cock sprang free, slapping heavily against his own thigh before the older man gripped it at the base. Without a word of warning, he dragged the fat, throbbing head through the mess between Elliot’s legs, coating himself in the slick that was still dripping freely down Elliot’s thighs.
Then he started grinding.
Mafioso pressed the entire thick length of his cock firmly between Elliot’s soaked folds, sliding the heavy shaft up and down along his dripping pussy in slow, deliberate strokes. The sheer size and heat of it made Elliot’s breath catch — it felt impossibly thick and heavy, the veiny underside dragging roughly over his swollen clit with every pass. Mafioso rocked his hips forward, grinding harder, letting the wide head nudge right up against Elliot’s entrance, stretching the tight ring open just slightly before pulling back at the last second.
Elliot’s palms scraped against the wall as his body jolted. “It’s— it’s pressing right there— oh god—”
A low, mocking chuckle escaped Mafioso as he watched Elliot’s hips twitch helplessly. He kept the grinding steady and teasing, sliding the massive cock through the slick folds again and again, the fat head catching at Elliot’s entrance on every upward stroke, almost pushing inside before he deliberately angled away. The weight of it slapped wetly against Elliot’s cunt with each roll of his hips, the heavy shaft smearing more mess everywhere.
“Feels bigger than you thought, huh?” Mafioso muttered, voice laced with dark amusement, before letting out another rough laugh as Elliot’s legs trembled harder.
He ground in deeper this time, pressing the thick head firmly against the fluttering entrance until the tight ring started to yield, the very tip just barely beginning to breach — only for Mafioso to pull back at the last moment with a sadistic grin, leaving Elliot clenching desperately around nothing. He repeated the motion, sliding the entire heavy length along that pussy, grinding the underside against Elliot’s clit while the head kept teasing that tight opening, nudging and stretching without ever sinking in.
Elliot’s forehead pressed harder into the cool wall, his voice breaking into fragmented, overwhelmed sounds. “It’s too thick— I can feel every inch— it keeps almost— almost going in—”
Mafioso’s hips rolled with controlled cruelty, enjoying the way Elliot’s body reacted to the constant near-penetration. He dragged the fat cockhead up and down the slick slit one more time, then pressed forward again, letting the wide tip spread Elliot’s entrance open just enough to feel the burn of the stretch before easing off once more.
The heavy shaft continued its relentless grinding, sliding hot and heavy through the dripping folds, occasionally slapping wetly against Elliot’s clit or nudging insistently at his hole.
Mafioso ended the teasing with a low growl. He pulled back and slapped the heavy head of his cock against Elliot’s folds several times, the sharp wet sounds cutting through the room. Then, without any warning, he gripped Elliot’s hips hard and thrust forward, driving his thick length all the way inside in one savage motion.
Elliot’s body jerked violently against the wall, a loud cry tearing from his throat as the sudden stretch and deep fullness hit him. The thick cock pressed firmly against his g-spot, making his inner walls clamp down hard around it.
Mafioso immediately started fucking him with brutal, relentless strokes, his hips slamming forward again and again. Each powerful thrust rocked Elliot’s body, the head of his cock grinding deep and nudging right up toward his womb.
“Fuck, you feel good wrapped around me,” Mafioso muttered, voice thick with rough pleasure as he kept pounding away.
Elliot squirmed like crazy between the wall and the hard thrusts, his hips twisting and bucking as waves of intense pleasure rushed through him. Sharp, desperate cries spilled from his lips while his legs trembled beneath him.
After several long minutes of deep, punishing fucking, Mafioso suddenly pulled out almost completely, leaving just the fat tip inside. He slapped his heavy cock against the slick folds a few times, then rammed back in with the same brutal force, bottoming out hard. He fell into a merciless pattern — long stretches of hard pounding that made Elliot jolt with every snap of his hips, sudden withdrawals, a few heavy slaps against the folds, and then another savage re-entry.
Each time he slammed back inside, Elliot thrashed and squirmed wildly against the wall, crying out louder as fresh pleasure shot through his body.
Mafioso slapped Elliot’s ass hard, the loud crack ringing out as he gripped both cheeks firmly and spread them wider for a better angle. He drove even deeper, his thick cock pressing right against the entrance to Elliot’s womb with every thrust while his fingers dug into the younger man’s hips with bruising strength.
“Yeah… scream for me. Let me hear how much you like it,” Mafioso grunted, landing another sharp slap on Elliot’s ass as he continued the ruthless pace.
He pulled out once more, slapped the heavy shaft against the folds a couple more times, then thrust back in without hesitation. The cycle kept going — deep, forceful strokes that filled him completely, quick pull-outs, heavy cock slaps, and brutal re-entries that left Elliot shaking and gasping.
Mafioso leaned in closer, his broad chest pressing kagainst Elliot’s back. He reached around with one hand and rubbed firm circles over Elliot’s clit while still fucking him hard, the added touch making the pleasure spike even higher. His other hand stayed locked on Elliot’s hip, holding him steady as he drove in deep again and again.
Elliot’s entire body trembled violently, squirming and arching helplessly as broken cries of pleasure kept escaping him. The constant rough rhythm — the deep grinding against his g-spot, the firm slaps, and the way that thick cock kept pushing right up against his womb — pushed him closer and closer to the edge.
Mafioso showed no sign of slowing. He kept switching between hard, deep fucking and those sudden withdrawals followed by cock slaps and savage thrusts, gripping Elliot tightly and occasionally slapping his ass while drawing out more wild squirming and desperate sounds with every move.
Mafioso kept the brutal rhythm going, his hips snapping forward in deep, punishing strokes while his hand stayed locked on Elliot’s hip. He occasionally slapped the younger man’s ass, the sharp cracks mixing with the wet sounds of their bodies colliding. Every thrust drove his thick cock hard against Elliot’s g-spot, the relentless pressure building higher and higher inside him.
Elliot squirmed wildly against the wall, his body jerking and twisting with every powerful plunge. His cries grew sharper and more desperate, his legs shaking so badly they could barely hold him up. Without any warning, the pleasure suddenly crested and crashed over him. His inner walls clamped down hard around Mafioso’s cock as he came hard, a loud, broken cry tearing from his throat while his whole body convulsed and trembled uncontrollably.
Hot waves of release flooded through him, his cunt pulsing and fluttering wildly around the thick length still buried deep inside. His hips bucked back erratically, his back arching sharply as the orgasm ripped through him with no build-up or control.
Mafioso continued fucking him through it for several more hard thrusts, his pace only slowing slightly as he chased his own pleasure. It wasn’t until Elliot’s body started to go limp and his inner walls kept spasming rhythmically that Mafioso finally noticed.
A low, mocking laugh rumbled from his chest. “Shit… you just came, didn’t you?” he said, voice thick with dark amusement. “Couldn’t even hold it together for a little longer? Pathetic.”
Without slowing his thrusts completely, Mafioso reached up with his free hand, grabbed Elliot’s short ponytail, and gave it a firm, sharp tug. He pulled Elliot’s head back slightly, forcing his cheek away from the wall and arching his back more as he kept driving into him with deep, steady strokes.
“Look at you… comin’ like that without even askin’,” Mafioso continued, his tone dripping with mockery as he pulled the ponytail again, harder this time, making Elliot’s body jolt with each deep thrust. “Such a greedy little thing. One good fuck and you’re already losin’ control.”
He kept pounding into Elliot even as the aftershocks made the younger man tremble and whimper, his grip on the ponytail staying tight while he used the leverage to fuck him even deeper, the head of his cock pressing firmly against the entrance to his womb with every snap of his hips.
Mafioso’s mocking laughter mixed with the filthy sounds filling the room as he continued the rough pace, clearly enjoying the way Elliot’s body reacted to both the orgasm and the firm tug on his hair.
Mafioso didn’t let up for even a second. He kept driving into Elliot with hard, steady thrusts, one hand still gripping the short ponytail while the other stayed locked on his hip. The rough tug on his hair kept Elliot’s head pulled back, forcing every cry to come out louder and more desperate.
The overwhelming pleasure kept building fast. Elliot’s body suddenly tensed, his legs shaking violently as a second orgasm hit him without any warning. His walls clamped down hard around Mafioso’s cock, pulsing rhythmically as he came again. A broken, high cry tore from his throat while fresh slick poured down his thighs in warm, messy trails, coating his skin and making everything even wetter between them.
“Ah—! I’m coming again—!” Elliot gasped out, voice cracking with shock and pleasure.
Mafioso felt the sudden tight fluttering around his cock and the way Elliot’s whole body convulsed. The sight of slick running down those trembling thighs sent a hot rush of arousal through him. His breathing grew heavier, eyes darkening as he watched the messy scene unfold right in front of him.
“Fuck… you’re really losin’ it now,” Mafioso muttered, voice low and thick with lust. “Comin’ all over me twice like that… makin’ such a pretty mess.”
He released the ponytail only to grab Elliot’s chin roughly with his large hand, yanking his head back and turning it sharply to the side. Without hesitation, Mafioso crushed their mouths together in a rough, demanding kiss. It was all heat and hunger — teeth nipping, tongue pushing past Elliot’s lips to claim him completely. He kissed him hard while still thrusting deep and steady, never slowing the brutal rhythm of his hips.
Elliot whimpered into the kiss, his body jerking with every powerful plunge. When Mafioso pulled back just enough for air, Elliot managed to moan breathlessly against his lips, “It’s— it’s too much… I can’t—”
Mafioso cut him off with another rough kiss, swallowing the rest of the words as his tongue tangled with Elliot’s. His hand stayed firm on Elliot’s chin, holding him in place while he continued fucking him through the lingering waves of the second orgasm. The feeling of slick coating his thighs and the way Elliot’s body kept trembling and clenching around him only made Mafioso more aroused. He growled softly into the kiss, clearly enjoying how completely Elliot was falling apart.
He finally broke the kiss again, lips brushing against Elliot’s ear as he kept driving in deep. “I could watch you soak your thighs like this all night.”
Mafioso’s thrusts stayed hard and relentless, his grip on Elliot’s chin and hip tight and possessive. He kept kissing him roughly between rough breaths, clearly turned on by the sight and feel of Elliot coming undone so messily a second time. The wet sounds of their bodies and the warm slick running down Elliot’s legs filled the small space as Mafioso continued using him with raw, hungry intensity.
Mafioso fucked Elliot through the aftershocks with deep, possessive strokes, his hand still gripping the younger man’s chin as he stole another rough kiss. But instead of staying in the same position, he suddenly pulled out completely, making Elliot whimper at the empty feeling. Before Elliot could catch his breath, Mafioso spun him around to face him, lifting one of Elliot’s legs high and hooking it over his hip.
Pressed chest-to-chest against the wall now, Elliot’s back arched as Mafioso lined up and slammed back inside in one smooth, brutal thrust. The new angle let him go even deeper, the thick head of his cock pressing right up against sensitive spots with every snap of his hips. Mafioso’s free hand roamed over Elliot’s chest, pinching and rolling a nipple between his fingers while he continued the hard rhythm.
Elliot’s head fell back against the wall, another shaky moan escaping him. “Mafioso… fuck— it’s so deep like this—”
Mafioso grinned darkly and leaned in, biting down on the side of Elliot’s neck hard enough to leave a mark before soothing it with his tongue. He kept thrusting steadily, grinding his hips in slow circles on every inward stroke to drag against every sensitive nerve inside. The slick on Elliot’s thighs made everything glide even easier.
After several minutes of this intense, face-to-face fucking, Mafioso felt his own release building fast. His thrusts started getting rougher and less controlled, his breathing turning into low, ragged grunts. He gripped Elliot’s thigh tighter, fingers digging in as he drove in harder, chasing that final edge.
“Gonna fill you up,” Mafioso growled against Elliot’s ear, voice strained with arousal. “You’re gonna take every drop.”
He slammed in deep one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulsed and throbbed inside Elliot’s tight heat. With a low, guttural groan, Mafioso came hard, thick ropes of cum flooding deep inside, painting Elliot’s inner walls. He kept grinding slowly through his orgasm, making sure every pulse pushed his release as far in as possible while his body shuddered against Elliot’s.
Even after he finished, Mafioso didn’t pull out right away. He stayed buried deep, breathing heavily against Elliot’s neck as he gave one final, lazy roll of his hips, pushing the mess deeper. His hand moved from Elliot’s chin to cup the back of his head, pulling him into another rough kiss while his cock continued to twitch inside him.
The combination of being filled, the deep new angle, and the feeling of Mafioso’s cum slowly leaking out around his cock sent fresh tremors through Elliot’s body. Mafioso finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Elliot’s with a satisfied, breathless chuckle.
“Damn… you took that so well,” he murmured, still buried deep and clearly in no hurry to move.
Mafioso stayed buried deep inside Elliot for a few more moments, savoring the way the younger man’s body still fluttered and clenched around him. He gave one last slow grind of his hips, pushing his cum even deeper, before finally pulling out with a wet, obscene sound.
As soon as his thick cock slipped free, a thick trickle of his cum began spilling from Elliot’s ruined cunt. It leaked out slowly at first, then in heavier, pearly white strands that ran down Elliot’s folds and inner thighs. The sight was filthy and mesmerizing — Elliot’s hole stayed slightly open from the rough fucking, twitching weakly as more cum dripped out in lazy rivulets, mixing with the slick already coating his skin.
Mafioso took a small step back, eyes locked between Elliot’s legs. He watched intently as another thick glob pushed out and slid down, his breathing still heavy. A low, satisfied hum escaped him while he admired the messy aftermath of what he’d done.
“Look at that…” he murmured, voice rough and dark. “Such a pretty, ruined little hole. All that cum just pourin’ out of you.”
Elliot’s legs trembled from the effort of staying upright, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He let out a soft, embarrassed whimper as he felt the warm mess continue to leak from him.
Mafioso didn’t let him recover for long. He dropped to one knee in front of Elliot, gripping the younger man’s hips firmly to keep him steady against the wall. Leaning in close, he dragged his tongue slowly up the length of Elliot’s folds, licking up the mixture of his own cum and Elliot’s slick in one long, deliberate stroke. The taste was salty and heady, and he groaned softly against the sensitive skin.
He took his time, making the scene last. His tongue moved in slow, thorough laps — starting at the bottom where the most cum had gathered, then dragging upward over the folds, circling the still-twitching entrance, and sucking gently at the puffy skin. Every time a fresh trickle of cum spilled out, Mafioso was right there to catch it with his tongue, licking it clean before pushing his tongue just inside the ruined hole to coax out even more.
Elliot’s hips jerked at the sudden warm, wet sensation. “Ah— Mafioso…”
Mafioso hummed in response, the vibration traveling straight through Elliot’s oversensitive body. He kept licking lazily, savoring every drop. His hands spread Elliot’s thighs a little wider, giving himself better access as he buried his face deeper between his legs. He alternated between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and more focused sucking on the folds, occasionally dipping inside to scoop out more of his own release.
The longer he went, the messier it got. Cum and saliva mixed together, dripping down Mafioso’s chin as he continued cleaning Elliot with slow llicks. He paid special attention to the entrance, pushing his tongue in as far as he could to taste the warm load he had left behind, then pulling back to lap at the outer folds again.
By the time he finally pulled away, his lips and chin were shiny with the combined mess. He looked up at Elliot with dark, satisfied eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up slowly.
“Couldn’t let all that go to waste,” he said, voice low and rough, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Tastes even better when it’s mixed with you.”
Elliot’s body was still trembling against the wall, his breathing shaky as the aftershocks continued to ripple through him. Mafioso stepped closer again, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to Elliot’s forehead while his hand rested possessively on the younger man’s hip, thumb brushing over the skin where fresh marks were already forming.
Mafioso wiped the last traces of cum from his lips with the back of his hand. He looked at Elliot — flushed, trembling, and still pressed against the wall with his pants around his thighs — and a new, opportunistic glint appeared in his eyes.
Out of nowhere, he blurted, “Suck my dick, and I’ll cut your debt to 40k.”
Elliot blinked, his face instantly flushing deep red. “H-huh!?”
“You heard me,” Mafioso said, voice calm but firm, as if he hadn’t just offered something so blunt right after fucking him senseless.
Elliot’s mind raced. The number hit him hard: 40 thousand. That was a massive cut from what he owed. His chest tightened as the reality sank in — he was already in deep, and every chance to lower the debt felt like a lifeline. He bit his lip, still breathing heavily, thighs sticky, and his body aching in the best and worst ways. Part of him wanted to protest, to call it ridiculous… but another, more desperate part whispered that this was exactly the kind of deal he couldn’t afford to turn down. Not when the alternative was drowning in even more money he himself didn’t really have.
He hesitated for a long moment, eyes flicking down to Mafioso’s still-hard cock, glistening with the mess they’d made. His cheeks burned hotter. Doing this would mean sinking even deeper into whatever this was… but cutting the debt that much? It could actually give him breathing room. Real breathing room.
Finally, Elliot swallowed hard, voice small and shaky. “…Okay.”
Mafioso’s smirk widened, clearly pleased. He reached down and stroked his cock once, spreading the leftover slick over the shaft as he watched Elliot’s nervous expression.
Elliot slid down the wall until he was on his knees, heart hammering in his chest. His hands trembled slightly as he reached forward and wrapped his fingers around the base of Mafioso’s cock. It felt even heavier and hotter in his palm now. He leaned in slowly, hesitating for just a second longer before parting his lips and taking the head into his mouth.
Mafioso let out a low groan of approval, one hand resting on the top of Elliot’s head. “That’s it… good choice.”
Elliot’s cheeks stayed flushed as he started to move, taking more of the thick length into his mouth. He was clumsy at first, still dazed from everything that had just happened, but determination kept him going. Every inch he managed to take was another step toward lowering that crushing debt. He sucked harder, tongue pressing along the underside, doing his best to make it worth the offer.
Mafioso watched him with dark, satisfied eyes, fingers threading lightly through Elliot’s short hair as the younger man worked.
He took his time sliding his lips down the heavy shaft, tongue pressing firmly along the underside while he tried to relax his throat. The taste of their earlier mess still coated every inch, salty and warm, but he pushed through it, focusing only on the deal that could slash his debt so dramatically.
As he sucked, the aftermath between his legs refused to stay quiet. Thick rivulets of Mafioso’s cum mixed with his own slick continued leaking from his pussy, slowly trailing down his inner thighs and making his skin feel sticky and overheated. The constant drip was impossible to ignore. Each subtle shift of his weight caused more to spill out, and soon Elliot found himself grinding his hips down against the hard floor in slow, needy circles. The rough surface pressed against his sensitive folds, offering a faint, aching friction that made his breath hitch around the cock in his mouth.
A soft, wet gluck escaped his throat as he took Mafioso deeper, followed moments later by a quiet slurp when he pulled back to breathe. His hips kept rolling against the floor, the pressure on his leaking pussy sending little sparks of overstimulation through his tired body while he continued servicing the older man.
Mafioso’s fingers rested heavily in Elliot’s short hair, not quite guiding yet, simply feeling the rhythm. “40 thousand off the top… and here you are, practically fuckin’ the floor just to earn it. Interesting choice.”
Elliot’s face burned with embarrassment, but the words only made him double down. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, bobbing his head with more purpose as his tongue swirled around the thick head on every upstroke. His hips continued their desperate grind against the cold floor, the sticky mess between his legs spreading further with every roll, making the friction both soothing and maddening.
Mafioso exhaled slowly, voice dropping lower. “You’re putting in real effort tonight. Mouth feels warmer than I expected… tighter too.”
Elliot let out a muffled whimper around the cock, the vibration traveling down the shaft as he pushed himself to take even more. His eyes watered slightly from the depth, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he ground his aching pussy harder against the floor, chasing that small relief while his lips stretched wider and his tongue worked tirelessly. The mix of humiliation, determination, and lingering pleasure kept him moving — sucking wetly, grinding slowly, and doing everything he could to make the debt reduction feel earned.
Mafioso watched every motion with dark, focused interest, his breathing growing heavier as Elliot continued the messy, eager work on his knees.
Elliot kept working with quiet focus, his head moving in a steady rhythm while his hips continued their slow, aching grind against the hard floor. His pussy throbbed from the constant leak of cum and slick, the sticky warmth making every roll of his hips feel messier and more desperate.
Mafioso’s breathing grew rougher, his fingers tightening in Elliot’s short hair as his hips started to push forward in shallow thrusts. Without any warning, he held Elliot’s head in place and came hard, thick pulses of cum flooding straight into his mouth. The salty load hit the back of his throat in heavy spurts, filling him quickly. Elliot’s eyes widened, a muffled sound escaping around the thick cock as he struggled to swallow it all down.
When Mafioso finally pulled out, a thin string of cum still connected Elliot’s swollen lips to the tip. Elliot coughed softly, trying to catch his breath, some of the cum dribbling down his chin.
Before he could recover, Mafioso grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and forced him down onto the floor on his back. Elliot landed with a startled gasp, legs splaying open. Mafioso knelt between his thighs, scooping the remaining cum from Elliot’s mouth with two thick fingers. He dragged those cum-coated fingers down between Elliot’s legs and began rubbing the warm load directly against his sensitive clit in slow, firm circles.
Elliot jolted at the contact, a sharp whimper slipping out as the slick mixture was smeared over his clit. Mafioso kept rubbing, spreading the cum thoroughly before pushing his fingers inside Elliot’s still-leaking pussy, shoving the cum deep with a wet sound.
Mafioso let out a low, amused laugh as he watched Elliot’s body twitch beneath him. “There we go… pushin’ it right back where it belongs.”
He pumped his fingers a few more times, making sure the cum was worked deep inside, then pulled them out and wiped the rest on Elliot’s inner thigh with a satisfied smirk.
Elliot lay there on the floor, chest heaving, face flushed, and thighs trembling from the rough treatment and the fresh mess now pushed back into him.
"A real slut, huh… best fuck I’ve had in a while," Mafioso snickered, his voice still rough with satisfaction. He tucked his semi-hard cock back into his pants and zipped up, eyes dropping once more to the younger man sprawled on the floor.
Elliot’s pussy was flushed a deep pink, visibly abused and puffy from the rough treatment. Thick strands of cum continued to leak slowly from his used hole, trailing down between his cheeks and onto the floor. The sight made Mafioso’s cock twitch with renewed interest. For a moment he seriously considered pulling his pants back down and burying himself inside that warm, messy cunt again. It looked far too inviting.
But he had places to be.
With a low sigh, Mafioso shook his head. He wasn’t a complete monster. He walked over to a nearby shelf, grabbed a small stack of napkins, and crouched down between Elliot’s legs. Carefully, he wiped away the worst of the mess — the cum, the slick, and the spit that coated his inner thighs and folds. Elliot let out a weak, tired whimper at the touch, too exhausted to do anything more.
Once he was reasonably clean, Mafioso tugged Elliot’s underwear and pants back up his legs, settling them into place with surprising gentleness. He then slid one arm under Elliot’s knees and the other behind his back, lifting him easily into a bridal carry.
Elliot stirred faintly in his arms, letting out another soft, exhausted sound.
“Easy, kid,” Mafioso muttered. He glanced around the small room, realizing he had no idea where Elliot’s car was parked. “Guess I’m takin’ you home myself tonight.”
As he carried the younger man toward the door, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. His boys were probably still waiting for that pizza he’d promised them earlier. He’d have to break the bad news when he got back — no pepperoni tonight.
At least he’d gotten something even better in return: a tight, eager hole that had taken everything he gave it and still begged for more.
But it’s time to take this sweet boy home. They’ll meet again one day!