The Main Attraction
Gil and Thomas had covered almost the entire haunted fair, Thomas leading the way from this attraction to that, tugging Gil by the hand everywhere they went with his typical enthusiasm.
He’d dressed for Halloween in a vampire outfit with a swirly purple cloak and fake fangs that made Gil think too often about being bitten.
The two of them were friends, not lovers, but tonight especially Gil couldn’t stop considering the possibility.
Thomas’s joy for life was contagious. He would probably be a lot of fun in bed, if not as toppy as Gil typically preferred.
Then again, toppy guys made him anxious, which was why he usually ended up with more femme guys like Thomas.
Sometimes he got a little exasperated with himself.
Like, make up your mind already, Gil. Do you want giggles and good times and the security of being with a guy who’s not ever going to hit you? Or do you want… that?
Gil’s mouth dropped open.
There was one attraction on the fairgrounds they hadn’t visited yet—a haunted house on the fringes of the brightly lit space, gloomy in the shadows and emanating a constant barrage of terrified shrieks.
Gil had been avoiding it because it seemed genuinely scary, not camp like the rest of the fair, but they were making their way toward it now because the fair was about to shut down for the night and Thomas had insisted they go.
“It’s the main attraction,” he’d argued.
“I think they’re closing,” Gil had returned, eyeing the way the already dim lighting seemed to be flickering out.
“That’s the best time to go. I always wait until the end.”
Which was why they were walking—almost running, actually, Thomas was in such a hurry—toward the house’s front door and the slab of man standing in front of it.
The slab of man who’d made Gil’s mouth drop open.
He wore a Frankenstein costume, which he filled out like he didn’t need padding to give himself a barrel chest, and his jaw, while an unnatural shade of green, was a very attractive variation of square.
His mouth was set in a grim line, and his arms were crossed with similar sternness across his chest as he watched the two of them approach.
Gil pulled on Thomas’s hand, trying to slow their pell-mell rush toward this impending doom, but Thomas only pulled back all the harder, not in the least put off by the hulking figure.
“We’re closed,” Frankenstein said when Thomas drew up in front of him with Gil a reluctant two steps behind.
He unhooked a velvet rope from one stanchion and attached it to another, forming a barrier across the front door that would be ridiculously easy to walk around. Not that Gil planned to walk around it.
“Bummer,” he pretended.
“We’re here for the after-hours tour,” Thomas said.
“Oh, yeah?” Frankenstein eyed them. Lasciviously, if Gil were going to put a word to it. “And you know what that entails?”
Thomas nodded. Gil shook his head. He had no idea what it entailed, but he could already tell he was afraid of it.
“Your friend seems unsure.”
Thomas glanced at him briefly. “You’re going to love it,” he promised. “Love, love, love it. He’s going to love it,” he promised again, this time to Frankenstein. “We’re both going to love it.”
Thomas sounded flirty. Was it a sex thing? It must be a sex thing. Gil might be down for that. Frankenstein was wildly attractive, green skin and all, and with Thomas there, he would be safe.
“What do you think, princess?” Frankenstein asked him. Princess wasn’t an endearment. It was how Gil was dressed. But Frankenstein made it sound flirty, just like Thomas had been sounding flirty, so Gil nodded yes.
“Nice.” Frankenstein gave them each another lascivious look, then undid the velvet rope and waved them through it.
Gil hung onto Thomas’s arm as they entered the house because, even if this was a sex thing, the house was still haunted—nearly pitch black and echoing with terrified screams that must only be a recording because it felt like there was no one in the house except the two of them and Frankenstein who’d followed them in and closed the door behind him.
Who’d locked the door behind him. Gil swallowed.
“You can leave your things in there,” Frankenstein said, pointing to an alcove that Gil could vaguely see held a set of lockers.
Thomas immediately took off his cape and stuffed it in a locker.
“Are we supposed to get undressed?” Gil asked in a whisper. It seemed a bit abrupt. He would prefer to get kissed before he got naked.
“I’d lose the tiara anyway,” Thomas said as he pried his fangs loose. “And those shoes. The dress won’t get in the way much, but you want to be able to run.”
Gil stashed his tiara and heels in a locker, noticing as he did that Thomas had taken off a lot more than that. He was all the way down to his boxers.
“Oh,” Thomas said. “You know what you should do? What have you got on under that dress? Whatever it is, you should take it off. Go bare-ass.” He slid a hand up Gil’s leg until he reached the waistband of Gil’s bicycle shorts and yanked them down, taking Gil’s underwear with them.
Gil squirmed, not sure whether he was helping or resisting.
He liked the way Thomas’s hand felt cruising over his bare skin, and once his dress had settled back down, the wash of air sweeping up under it reminded him he wasn’t wearing anything beneath it.
This was a good compromise, he decided. He wasn’t walking around in his underwear, which would make him feel conspicuous, but he was ready for action.
So where was the action?
The two of them stepped out of the alcove to find Frankenstein guarding the door to the outside world with his arms crossed.
“Three,” he said.
“Three what?” Gil asked.
“Two.”
Gil ran. He wasn’t sure from what. All he knew was that a monster was counting down from three and had almost made it to one. Thomas was running too.
“Where are we going?” Gil panted as they moved way too fast for a space this dark.
“Out,” Thomas panted. “Out, as fast as we can.”
Out? But they’d just gotten in.
“One.” Frankenstein’s voice was so close he must already have been chasing them before he said it. And his footsteps weren’t the only ones Gil heard behind them.
He looked over his shoulder and saw that a second Dracula, a much more physically imposing Dracula than Thomas’s, was also giving chase.
Too late, he realized the mistake of looking backward while running forward through a twisty, turning, dark haunted house.
He’d floundered himself into a dead end, and Frankenstein caught him in it, mashing his body against the wall.
Was he about to get fucked? He hadn’t even been prepped.
But his dick was hard, bobbing unfettered beneath the pink netting of his skirt.
It was the adrenaline of the chase and the fearsome face of the man chasing him.
He heaved a giant breath, both anticipating and fearing what came next.
But it wasn’t a cock that butted up against his ass. It was a hand.
Thwack!
He squealed, churning his ass in a futile attempt at escape as one blow after another slapped netting into his skin.
He called out to Thomas for help, though somewhere nearby he could hear a second set of slaps, but a hand grabbed his in response.
Gil pulled on it hard enough that he slid across the wall and around a corner into open space.
“This way,” Thomas shouted, dragging him down a corridor and into a room lined with sarcophagi and echoing with tortured moans. The two of them maneuvered so they were back to back as they revolved in a circle, eyeing the sarcophagi suspiciously.
“Mummies,” Thomas predicted, and then, as if his prediction had summoned them, a hoard of mummies wrapped in bandages tight enough to display the strength of their muscles and the ampleness of their erections burst out of the ornate coffins.
The mummies extended their arms, reaching for Gil and Thomas.
Gil turned to face his friend, grabbing him in a desperate embrace, but the mummies were too strong.
A trio of them tore him away so they could take turns holding him immobile while the others spanked him.
“Mmmmm,” one of them intoned as he raised Gil’s skirt to reveal his bare ass.
“Mmmmm,” another agreed, leaning in to get an eyeful.
The sound of bare skin being slapped reverberated through the room. Thomas had his own trio of mummies, and though he’d been wearing boxers earlier, they were currently around his knees.
Gil alternately whimpered and shrieked, twisting in the mummies’ grasp until he unexpectedly managed to wrench himself free.
He stumbled a couple of clumsy steps toward the door opposite the one they’d entered from then remembered Thomas.
He couldn’t abandon his friend. Though, from the looks of it, Thomas was enjoying himself.
Now that his drawers were down, Gil could see that his dick was hard and sticking straight out, wavering between his two captors like a divining rod as a third mummy whaled on his ass.
Gil risked some steps toward the center of the room to grab Thomas’s hand. Thomas tripped when Gil pulled, his legs bound by his boxers, then he righted himself. As they ran, he used the hand not holding Gil’s to drag his shorts over his ass and stuff himself back into his drawers.
He stopped in front of the door.
“What is it?” Gil asked, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the mummies who seemed to have lost interest in them.
“The maze.”
A maze didn’t sound so bad. What was it—bushes or something? At least foliage wouldn’t try to spank them.
Thomas shook his head warningly. “Everyone has an implement.”
Everyone who? Since when were mazes made of people?
“What do we do?” Gil asked.
Thomas flashed a giddy grin. “Enjoy it.”