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“I cannot believe you have gotten me lost in this goddamn corn maze,” Flint grumbles.
“Well, it’s not like I have a fucking compass. What, do you have one, Captain Grump? Were you a Boy Scout by any chance, got all the navigation merit badges, I’m sure,” Silver snaps back. Anxiety and discomfort (and maybe a little bit of fear) have made him prickly as a hedgehog.
They've been tramping around for at least an hour now, his leg starting to chafe like a bitch, and he has not gotten so much as a handhold let alone the hot makeout session plus the potential for a risque bit of More that he anticipated.
They are hopelessly lost, and it’s DEFINITELY mostly Silver’s fault, but he’d been trying to find a spot away from everyone else to get lucky, not trying to win or actually find the hidden clues. After over an hour in the maze it’s unironically kinda terrifying and this really wasn’t how he’d planned the evening to go.
The packed dirt path is littered with bits of straw and fallen corn husk, the air smells earthy and slightly sweet, and it wouldn’t be at all an unpleasant place to seduce his crush except it’s also absolutely as labyrinthine, spooky, and pitchblack as advertised. ”BYOL: Bring Your Own Light!” the flyer said, but Silver forgot to charge his phone and it’s already gone to battery saver. To make it worse, the GPS is just spinning this far out into the farmland boonies, no signal. (Flint had frowned when he first saw Silver pulling up the map app, as if it were cheating or something.)
Silence follows Silver’s last retort, save for the muted sounds of Flint shuffling in the dark. Then he pulls an honest to god heavy-duty flashlight out of his bag, clicking it on without comment. It’s still exceptionally dim, so he cannot quite tell, but Silver swears Flint’s cheeks have flushed red.
Though it’s surely just from the cider they had earlier (it came free with the maze tickets!), or the cold wind whistling through the high stalks. Because Silver isn’t so lucky as to make him blush now of all times.
Silver had formulated a careful, thoroughly considered plan asking James Flint on this date. Okay, not really, it’d been an impulsive thing as he loitered near the watering hole at the office. He’d been scoping the hot ginger from another department for awhile now, catching little glimpses of Flint during breaks and lunchtime. Had been working on him slowly for months, chatting him up just a bit, breaking the ice, had happened to leave for the elevator at the same time, trying desperately to get a date. Finally, Silver just word-vomited the invitation as they left one night. Their company hosting this corn maze as some bonding-team building exercise was the perfect opportunity.
It wasn’t billed as a Halloween thing, of course not, the company has no official affiliations with any holidays, totally non-denominational, don't wanna ostracize or alienate anyone. No, it’s an “autumnal event.” Nevermind the skeleton army hanging from ears of corn and pumpkins with sharp smiles leering at him from every corner. It’s really downright spooky as shit in here, he’s been half-expecting Michael Myers or Freddy Krueger to leap out at him all night and chase him through the swaying fronds which all look identical.
If a serial killer did suddenly and magically manifest it’d be a good excuse to cling to Flint for manly protection. Flint is built like an oak tree, all broad shoulders and sturdy torso, and Silver would love to lean on him to ease his leg or cuddle in for warmth. If only the other hadn’t been acting so fucking grumpy the whole time, as if it was the worst thing in the world to be solving the maze with Silver.
Once they’d been sent off, Flint had immediately started strategizing, his voice terse and no-nonsense, laying out an angle of approach. “All right, there are three clues hidden throughout the maze, likely in the unlit jack-o-lanterns,” he rattled off the rules from memory.
“We’ll search each row systematically, and once we find the clues, they will combine to lead us to the hiding place containing the final answer, which is the key to completing the challenge. As long as we can secure that answer and get back out of the maze first, we win.” A crazy look in his eye, mouth set, he had set off at a brisk stride, wrapping bright red twist ties every couple stalks to mark where they’d been before.
Breathlessly, trying to keep up, Silver joked, “Haha, you musta been in the military, huh?” Who did this Hansel and Gretel shit anyway??
Flint didn’t stop but flicked a glance back. “Navy. Ten years,” he responded curtly, before going back to scanning the maze.
Silver breathed out in a big whoosh of air, eyes widening for a moment. Jesus Christ.
When he’d invited Flint, he meant to get him alone and coax him into, well, something. The sexual tension has been building under his skin for months. Maybe a hot makeout session with that gorgeous beard scraping up his cheeks or any other body parts Flint wanted, was that so much to ask? (It’s an adults only maze after all, no harm done.) Man like that, all buttoned up and staid at work, he could use a good fucking. Also, at times a dark look lurked in his eyes, something that said maybe he’s also thought about following Silver into the copy room to see what his tongue tastes like. But instead Flint has latched onto the CONTEST of it all and seems genuinely invested in winning.
Which makes very little sense to Silver, frankly. The prize is a choice between an all-expenses-paid spa day or a full-course of mini golf, neither of which seem Flint’s speed. That means he must just be try-harding to prove that he can, one of those guys. Silver is beginning to have second thoughts about his choice of hookup. Sure he’s fucked worse bastards than this before, but this time was supposed to be Different, he’s getting Better. And is Flint really hot enough to put up with the same song and dance of fluttering his eyelashes and flattering the ego of some asshole?
Yeah, okay, he really is that hot, probably the most gorgeous man Silver’s ever seen with a hard stare that makes him want to jump up and say “yessir,” a voice like liquid sex and his thighs–
He halts the train of thought, being hornier isn’t going to help get out of the scary maze. Focus, Silver, breathe. Reassess, we can salvage this.
Flint, now armed with a flashlight, sets off back down another path. “You haven’t known where you’re going this entire time, have you?” he asks with a frown.
(As a rule, Silver does not have a great sense of direction, okay, yes he’d been saying cheerfully, “Oh let’s go this way!” over and over, just trying to get away from the voices of other people. But he’d thought the expectations were CLEAR: they were pairing up to go wander around alone tipsy and make out.)
Silver doesn’t answer, just trying to keep up as Flint keeps walking far too fast, damn his prosthetic is rubbing something awful after so many wrong turns. Silver doesn’t understand why Flint is booking it when every direction is the wrong one anyway, this maze is a maze, the stalks are looming walls, identical, unforgivable.
Flint huffs an annoyed breath. “Why did you keep suggesting turns so confidently if you didn’t know the way?” he continues, sounding truly baffled.
Silver races to keep up, opening his mouth to retort snarkily when– His shoe catches on a stack of loose detritus piled in the middle of the narrow pathway and he trips, violently careening right into Flint with a cry, bodies colliding with a solid thud. Silver scrunches his face, bracing to hit the ground, but it never comes. Flint catches Silver with lightning-fast reflexes and keeps him upright, holding him by the waist with a steady grip.
Embarrassment usually consumes Silver in moments like this, but he’s more resigned than anything. His stump radiates pain, jolted roughly by the near-fall, and he won’t be able to walk for a while after this without great discomfort, he knows from experience.
“My goddamn–” he pants out, breath still heavy from the exertion. Silver shakes his head, trying again, “I uh, my leg–”
“Fuck,” Flint exclaims softly, cutting him off. Even in the low light, mostly from the moon high up above, heavy and full as on omen, his white teeth are gritted. “Your– You have a prosthetic?” he finishes awkwardly, voice stilted with regret.
Silver is surprised he noticed, honestly, most people’s eyes glaze over the limp, best not to ask. He wears slacks at work. Silver doesn’t speak, just nods.
Flint grimaces again, expression mortified. “I forgot, fuck. I’m– I’m sorry, Silver.”
While Silver usually rankles at anything that smacks of pity, it doesn’t feel like that. Flint just stands there steadying him as he catches his breath. He’s so warm and solid and this close Silver can tell he’s wearing some kind of spiced cologne, cinnamon and cardamom. He smells like a goddamned apple pie fresh out of the oven, hot and delicious, and Silver wants to take a bite. It’s only gotten chillier as the night has gotten deeper, and he’s drawn to the heat Flint seems to radiate like a human furnace, bundled up in proper clothes for the weather. Silver had dressed poorly for this event, trying to look enticing in a deep vee-neck sweater with an artfully-draped scarf and skinny jeans.
“Y-you really w-wanna win, huh?” Silver says, tossing Flint a grin to save face, to bail him out, bail them both out, really. But the effect is mostly ruined by the chattering teeth. Goddamn, now that’s embarrassing. “Sorry, j-just. C-cold.”
“Oh,” Flint looks around and then just murmurs, “All right, c’mere.” He pulls Silver in a bit closer, both hands on his shoulders rubbing slow comforting circles to warm him up. This close Silver can see how deep dark green his eyes are, the moonlight throwing shadows across his face that only makes him more gorgeous, mouth slightly parted as they make a little haven with their bodies, the smell of autumn spices swamping his senses.
“Thanks,” Silver breathes and Flint’s eyes flick down to his mouth. Silver feels tugged along like a puppet on a string, inevitably leaning in and, yes, yes this is–
Suddenly a blood-curdling scream rips through the night, several rows away, and Silver jolts like he’s been struck by lightning, nearly biting his own lip and letting out a mortifyingly high-pitched squeak.
Flint’s head whips towards the noise, tensing and moving in front of Silver as if to fight off the monster, but then the scream is quickly followed by shrieking laughter. Some other maze-goers are clearly spooking themselves and having a great time of it.
Silver breathes out in relief, smiling weakly at Flint, though the moment is broken. Flint has moved away, dropping his hands from Silver. He misses the warmth immediately, crossing his arms to preserve some of it. An awkward silence falls on them as the sound of other people drifts away and then Flint meets his eye again.
“About what you said before. I do have a compass, actually,” he admits, sheepish.
A beat passes. Then, Silver bursts out laughing, a big belly-shaking fit he cannot control, throwing his head back helplessly to it, eventually dissolving into quieter giggles. It bleeds out some of the tension he’s been gathering all evening.
When he finally looks back up, Flint is watching him with his own matching grin. “What’s so funny?”
"Oh god, of course you do,” Silver says, still laughing, face hurting from smiling. “Well, why don't you just pull that out then? Been holding out on me this whole time.”
"Believe it or not, it's not actually very helpful in here,” Flint explains with a chuckle. “These pathways are so narrow and often there's just not one to take. I can know that we need to head back southwest, but there are no branches that way. I ran out of twist ties about forty minutes ago and frankly they’re of no real use right now anyway, we’ve definitely crossed over our own trail more times than not." He holds up a notepad. “Good news is we’ve collected two pieces of the riddle, though.”
“Oh, is that the good news?” Silver says through giggles. He cannot seem to stop. “I can get my spa day? Well, thank God.” He leans into Flint, bumping against him playfully.
Silver has to hand it to their company though, they shelled out for a pretty well-designed scavenger hunt, challenging enough to engage someone as smart as Flint clearly is.
Flint is still half-smiling at him, a look of unbridled fondness. And all right maybe the night isn’t totally ruined yet. “Come on,” Flint says. “Let's sit down for a second, take a little break and warm up.”
Silver pulls a face, about to ask, Where? On the cold dirt?
But then Flint starts pulling things out of his bag—a blanket, a promising-looking flask, a handful of candy, and this is more like it. Flint's bag is apparently of the magical Barney variety, full of supplies and preparations.
Silver crows in surprised excitement. "You have three different varieties of fun size Kit Kat?! Oh my god, be still my heart." He starts happily, gleefully, unwrapping multiples to shove in his face. Completely dispensing with trying to be sexy in the presence of chocolate and sugar. "You didn't answer earlier, you must have been a Boy Scout, right?"
This time Silver is not imagining things, and it's definitely not the cider or the wind, Flint flushes bright red and looks away. "I uh, well, yeah. I was but…" He gives a little cough and fiddles with the ring on his pinky twisting it around before saying, quieter, "You keep some at your desk."
All of the breath leaves Silver with a little shock of surprised pleasure. Flint has been paying attention? They stare at each other for a moment and then Flint goes back to setting up.
“Oh, yeah. I– They’re my favorite. Thanks.” Silver stuffs more chocolate in his mouth to cover the warm feeling welling up in him.
The smell of woodsmoke from the bonfire in the main area wafts to them on the breeze as Silver settles down on the blanket, relieved to take the weight off his leg, and the smell makes him crave its crackling warmth. They pass the flask back and forth for a few moments, the alcohol warming his belly.
“We're all set," Silver says appreciatively. "But you don't happen to have a tent in there or anything to make a fire, hm Magic Man?"
Flint raises an eyebrow at him. “Ah, I see. Is burning the maze down your strategy for getting out now?”
Silver grins back. “Yeah, couldn't hurt.” Then his mouth keeps moving without his permission. “Maybe I just wanted to cozy up next to you by a fire.”
Flint is so close suddenly, moved when Silver hadn’t noticed, nearly cuddled up next to him on the blanket now. “I can certainly make the first part happen,” he says, low and rough. Silver takes a bracing swig from the flask as those dark eyes pin him and a little “please” falls nearly-inaudible from his lips, but it's enough.
Then Flint has Silver’s face in his hands and they’re kissing at last, devouring his mouth hungrily, lips molten hot and sweet as honey in the autumn chill.
“You took wrong turns on purpose, didn't you?” Flint says between kisses. Then he unwinds Silver’s scarf in order to nuzzle wetly along the column of his neck.
“Oh, fuck–” Silver moans, the bristly sensation of Flint’s beard trailing over his skin making his cock jerk in his jeans, straining for attention, and his legs fall open to allow further access. “Just wanted to get you alone,” he gasps. “Can you blame me?"
The dark chuckle that rumbles out of Flint is the sexiest goddamn thing Silver’s ever heard, he may simply perish in this corn maze right now from lack of blood to the rest of his body. “I suppose not.”
With Flint’s full body weight draped over him Silver is not cold at all anymore, he’s submerged in a steaming tub, surrounded on all sides by heat, Flint tastes like whiskey and chocolate.
“I'd let you fuck me right here,” Silver pants out, imagining it in vivid detail, squirming deliciously against the hard body pinning him.
“Out in the open?” Flint rasps. “Just like this?”
Silver bites his lip on purpose this time, knowing how it looks, how it works on men and women both. “Fuck, yeah,” he half-moans.
Flint smirks wickedly at him. “Hmm, I don’t know, I get the impression you're a loud one. Better to have the privacy to take my time with you, see if I can make you scream,” low and rough with promise.
Silver’s heart nearly stops, his cock pulsing just from the sound of Flint’s voice, weeping desperately now. Filthy things he'd never even been able to imagine would come out of Flint's mouth. Obscene and intimate and thrumming with smug confidence and ravenous hunger and–
"Oh my god, please–" Silver whines, arching up into Flint’s body.
Flint growls in response, grinding his clothed erection into Silver’s, leaning down to bite his collarbones now, hot bright trails of pain-pleasure, and, fuck, Silver is going to come right now exactly like this if he doesn’t stop–
“WROWHH!”
They both jump, Flint tugging Silver even closer somehow just like before as if to shield him. Though it’s not other maze-goers this time, but a large black cat with yellow eyes that shine like gold coins. The largest black cat that Silver has ever seen, a miniature panther, handsome and well-groomed. It’s standing right next to them on the blanket, peering unblinkingly, intense.
“RAAHRH.” It gives another loud exclamation with a uniquely croaky voice, less of a meow than perhaps a goat that smokes a pack a day.
“Excuse me?” Silver says without quite meaning to, exceptionally miffed. He was this close to his dream scenario here, the timing beyond inconvenient. When Silver goes to question the animal again, it butts its large head against Silver’s face with the force of a battering ram, and he gets a mouthful of fur.
“Oh my GOD, okay. Let’s just. See what he wants then.” He meets Flint’s eye, but his face is unreadable. Silver shrugs helplessly.
They make to stand, shuffling around on the blanket, bodies breaking contact to Silver’s great and mournful displeasure. The cat paces in circles the entire time, WROWH-ing up a storm, and goddamn that is annoying. As they shift around, at the worst possible moment, the lube Silver brought as a hopeful gesture falls right out of his back jeans pocket.
Flint picks it up, squinting, and then asks with faint amazement, “Really?”
Silver swipes it from his hand. “Better to be prepared.” He tries not to sound too defensive.
“But apple butter-flavored,” Flint insists, brow furrowed in incredulity.
Silver doesn’t know whether to laugh it off or walk right through the corn stalks and into the highway. He settles on muttering, “I like how it smells,” shoving the lube back in his pocket.
Flint just stares in silence. Silver has definitely ruined the mood. In fact, the mood was thrown into a Saw trap and is never getting back out. But then again maybe Flint will invite him on a second date? Next time they’ll fool around in a movie theatre while an 80s slasher movie plays out. Sure and while he’s making up fantasies he can win a million dollars too.
“Um all right,” Silver says with as much confidence as he can muster. “Looks like our friend here wants us to follow him and I’ve seen enough horror movies to know you better listen to the witch’s familiar on a full moon.”
Flint doesn’t reply, just looks down at the cat and sighs. They quickly gather the blanket up, pack everything back into Flint’s bag, and Silver surreptitiously adjusts his erection so they can walk on.
The strange silence reigns as the cat leads them unerringly out of the maze down row after row with preternatural accuracy until only minutes later they emerge back into the main farm area with the bonfire, the free cider. The panther rubs against Silver’s leg and he pats its silky smooth head right between the ears. It purrs deep and throaty as a boat motor, eyes squeezing contentedly, then croak-meows at him once more before padding off into the night.
“Thanks I guess, fucking haunted-ass cat,” Silver says. Then he glances over at Flint. They never found the last few clues, surely he’s pissed, disappointed. He didn’t even get a blowjob in the maze and Silver doesn’t know quite how to offer one now. Hell he can’t be on his knees right now anyway.
Silver spots a jack-o-lantern carved lewdly in the shape of a humongous eggplant, the firelight inside making it pulsate suggestively. He simply cannot make this worse, and the silence is killing him, so he goes for broke, hoping to break the tension.
“Well, I see now why it’s adults only! Certainly gives you ideas, huh?" Silver throws out, half-joking, half-hopeful. God he’s Like This, there’s no cure.
Thankfully, Flint just gives an exasperated laugh, shaking his head at Silver. “You really are something, you know that?”
Silver tries not to let that hurt his feelings. Forging on, he says, “Well, that was a disaster.” Attempting to brush away the awkward almost-fuck and all the rest. “I guess I’ll see you around the office?” Silver tries not to sound too disappointed. He did get the hot dick-grinding makeout session, after all. The memory of Flint crushing him into a blanket in a corn maze will be enough to get him hard for many nights to come, full up on jackoff material. He really shouldn’t be greedy.
Flint huffs a laugh and moves in closer, reeling Silver in by the waist. He wraps Silver up in his embrace, looming reassuringly. “I liked it,” Flint murmurs. “Thank you for inviting me,” then he captures Silver’s mouth in a deep, warm kiss.
Silver moans softly in surprise, certain he’s in no way earned this. Well, that’s never stopped him before. He melts into the kisses for long moments, Flint digging hands into his hair deliciously, before pulling back.
“So the apple butter lube didn’t turn you off?” Silver says, a little breathless. “Or the, uh, stupid jokes, or the fact that I made you lose the contest?”
“You are utterly ridiculous,” Flint says, but it sounds unbelievably fond. “But no. I was only trying to win to impress you anyway.”
The warm delight this revelation summons suffuses his limbs, immense affection overtaking him and he’s rendered speechless for once in his life.
Flint places another peck on his lips like punctuation. “Since you made a point to buy seasonally appropriate lube, I feel like we should put it to good use,” mouth pulled into the same devious smirk as earlier, moustache twitching, and oh, he’s been fucking with him. Well, two can play that game.
“Wouldn’t you be so lucky?” A grin curves Silver’s mouth like a scythe, voice dropping low and sultry just to watch Flint swallow. “Well, I suppose it is a full moon,” he hums, leaning back into Flint. “Anything can happen.”