Scotsmen

I enter the utility elevator, Matt behind me. I know he’s there, but I don’t acknowledge him. I can’t say anything in front of the guys, can’t look at him, but that’s part of it anyway. They start drinking at six in the morning, beers bought over at our regular place, our other lives, and they put the beers into little Igloo coolers. They can drink on their breaks. Matt and I do something else to pass the time.

It’s a beautiful day, warm and breezy, like summer was when you were a kid. It’s good to work on a high-rise on a day like this, away from the people, like a park you get all to yourself.

The floors flip by, 57, 58, 59, 60 and I stop us at 61. The electricians are coming in next week to hang their stuff, but right now it’s just a platform under another platform in space. And it’s unoccupied, no walls or windows, just concrete and blue air.

I attach our harnesses to the structure, OSHA stuff, and Matt looks at me for the first time. He says he gets scared of me sometimes, but he smiles when he says it, and that’s all I need to know. Sometimes I feel like kissing him, making him feel alright. This is not one of those times. I take my helmet off and my sunglasses. He’s already done the same, the dust greying the skin of his cheekbones. His hair is kind of long and it flies around in the wind. He just stands there, waiting for me, barely blinking.

“Why do Scotsmen take their sheep to the edge of a cliff?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer, just sways slightly, his mouth open. I pretend that he’s going to answer for a few seconds, then I turn him around, take him by the collar and step us to the edge of the floor, him in front of me, the sun making direct contact with us. His toes hang over the edge. His shoulders lift and fall. I reach around him and unzip his suit, my hand slipping around his chest, his muscles tight.

“So they push back,” I finish.

We had his wife put velcro in the ass of his suit a few months ago, Matt explaining that sometimes he had to go and it takes too damn long to take off the suit and the harness. He stopped wearing anything under it then too. I rip at the velcro and slipped my hand around his ass. It’s tight, a little hairy, warm. I open up my little Igloo cooler. Under a few beers is a bottle of lube. I bend him over, pulling at his middle and pushing at his back. His hands grip the edge.

“Are you scared?” I ask him.

“Yes.”

“Good, you’ll be tight.”

I put a condom on and lube up. He jolts when I touch him, only my fingers rolling the wetness on and into him, but he’s the guy staring into the abyss. Most guys don’t really look, not even the older ones. It’s not cool. But Matt sometimes, I’ll see Matt just looking down. He doesn’t smile or look scared or anything but just looks out over the space, regarding it quietly.

I twist my cock over the pucker of his asshole and make a dent in it. His arms straighten and he pushes back, sliding me into him. We pause and breathe for a second. He is tight. He’s clamped down on me like a vise. I grab the lower part of his harness and begin to fuck.

Ten stories below us, Jimmy just made a crack at Jose about his haircut, Skolichnyev (who we just call Skoli, or sometimes Stoli when we’re drunk) just grabbed Carl’s beer and made like he was gonna shake it, Nels bitches about his wife and Nick is just sitting there grinning like he knows something. Me, I’m jackhammering Matt, pulling so hard on his harness I feel like I’m gonna throw him to the ceiling. He’s groaning, moving the bottle of lube out of the way so he doesn’t knock it over the side, his hand going back to beating himself. My hand chokes up the harness and he comes up, his left hand lifting off of the ground. “Fuck me harder,” he says, before the wind comes and steals it. “Fuck me harder.”

My hand pushes down on the top of his ass and I slow down, grinding him, hard but slow. Fuck, is he ever tight. His hand flies up and he waves it in the air, dark silhouette from my angle, and I feel his ass snap on me, then relax and snap again. I’m back to jackhammer, my bottom lip in my teeth. He’s totally limp now, hanging from my hands. The sky turns orange and dark, a red bliss building in my knees. I make one last shove as my back arches. “Fuuuuuck!” I yell and come hard, almost painful, every muscle in my body tearing up.

I drop him slowly, his arms stretched out over the side and slap his ass a little before sealing the wide strip of velcro.