Halloween Maze - Xay’s POV (Patreon)

Author’s note: All my characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the adult characters.

Xay’s Pov

The hand closed on the back of my hoodie and pulled before my brain finished deciding whether to run.

We had just come through the fake school corridor. Lockers on both sides. Red exit light at the end. Reggie was two steps ahead of me. David was behind. I heard the side door open. Then the white mask was there, tall, the black robe open down the front so the chest and stomach showed, already shining under the red light. Hard body. Black. He didn’t speak yet. He just took the hoodie in one fist and dragged me sideways into the room. The door shut. Reggie hit it from the other side a second later. I heard my name. I didn’t say red. My mouth was open and the only thing that came out was air.

The room was smaller than the hall and older. Wood paneling that looked like it had been ripped out of a 1999 basement. A metal desk with a dead CRT monitor and a keyboard that didn’t match. Two posters peeling at the corners — one for a band I half-recognized, one for a movie that had come out when I was a kid. A rolling chair. The lockers continued in here for three units. One of them was dented like someone had been thrown against it before. The light was bad. Just the red leaking under the door and a single buzzing fluorescent that painted everything the color of old blood.

He spun me. Put my chest against the cold locker. The mask came close to the side of my head. When he spoke the voice was low and filtered and exactly right. Not a guy doing an impression. The cadence from the movies. Calm. Curious. A little amused.

“Baby boy. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

I laughed once. It came out wrecked. “Are you serious?”

“Answer the question.”

“This one,” I said. “Right now. This room.”

He made a sound through the mask. Almost a laugh. The hand on the back of my neck pushed harder. My hoodie went up. The button on my jeans popped. He shoved them down with my underwear in one motion. Cold air. Then the blunt, hot head of his big black cock against me. Thick and big. I felt the weight of it and pushed back because my legs had stopped waiting for permission. He sank in slow enough that I felt the stretch happen in stages and fast enough that I still made a sound the metal threw back at me. Bare. Heavy. The head pushed past the tightest part and kept going until his hips were flush and I could feel the heat of his hard stomach against my ass.

“Fuck,” he said, still in that scary voice. “There you go.”

He didn’t give me time. The first thrusts were deep and mean. My forehead knocked the locker. Skin on skin, loud in the small room. His hips were solid. Sweat from his chest and stomach dripped onto my lower back and ran. I could smell him — heat, the latex of the mask, whatever oil or plain sweat made his skin shine. One hand stayed locked on my hip. The other braced on the locker above my head, fingers spread. The mask never came off. I turned my head once and caught the white plastic, the black eyes, the way his chest flexed. Pure black temptation.

“You gonna say the safe word?” he asked. Same movie voice. Almost polite.

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He fucked me harder. The pace turned ugly. Short strokes that still reached deep. My hands slipped on the metal. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back until my spine arched and he could get another inch. The head of his cock hit the same spot on every thrust. I heard myself. High. Broken. Not words. He grunted under the filter, real. His balls slapped against me. Sweat ran down the crack of my ass and mixed with what was already leaking out around his cock. The desk rattled. A plastic cup fell off it and rolled. Outside the door someone laughed and kept walking. The guy didn’t care.

“Look at you,” he said. “Took the whole thing. You like some BBC dontcha? Didn’t even think about it.”

I couldn’t answer. My mouth was open against the locker. He let go of my hair. Both hands on my hips now. He started pounding. The sound was wet and filthy. Skin. Breath. The mask tipped down like he was watching himself disappear into me. His stomach, hard and hot, pressed to my back on the deepest strokes. I felt him throb. He didn’t slow down. One hand slid up, pressed flat between my shoulder blades, kept me bent. The other stayed on my hip hard enough that I knew I’d have red marks after on my white skin. I came without touching myself. It hit sharp, sudden, cock jerking against the cold locker, my load dripping on the metal, my legs shaking so hard he had to hold me up or I would have dropped. He fucked me through it. Didn’t stop. The clench made him curse, low, still in that voice.

“Yeah. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He buried himself on the next thrust and stayed there. I felt the first pulse inside me. Thick. Hot. Then another. A lot of it. He rolled his hips once, twice, working it deeper while he finished, the mask tipped down, sweat dripping off the plastic onto my spine. He didn’t pull out until the pulses stopped. When he did, cum ran down my thigh immediately, hot, then cooling. He stepped back. His breathing was heavy through the mask.

“Door’s behind you,” he said. Movie voice again. Calm now. “Your friends are still in the maze. Don’t say the word on the way out either. You already made it this far. You’re a good white boy that likes scary movies.”

I stayed against the locker. Legs useless. Hole open and leaking. The red light from the hall slid under the door and caught the edge of the white mask as he opened it. He didn’t look back. I pulled my jeans up with shaking hands. Tasted metal where I’d bitten my lip. My thighs were already sticky. I opened the door and followed the sound of the others deeper into the warehouse. 

I didn’t say red. I already knew I wasn’t going to. The ache and the cum and the voice were still in me, and I wanted that rush again before the night was over.