The Way Things Are (22 page)

“How high is it?”

“Uh, about four flights of stairs and some ladders.”

Ken flexed his knee, testing the range of motion. Sitting down for a quiet lunch and then watching a game on Patrick’s couch had given the muscle relaxer time to work, and most of the stiffness around the torn ligament was gone now. “I think I’ll be okay.”

Chapter 9

P
ATRICK
MADE
Ken lead the way up a series of metal stairs and ladders that climbed the support frame of Crane 7. Every time Ken hesitated or shifted his weight to his left leg, he felt Patrick’s arms lock around his torso. Ken knew he was staying close in case Ken’s knee buckled, and even though it would have embarrassed the hell out of him yesterday, tonight he found he didn’t mind.

Ken kept his grip tight despite Patrick’s reassuring presence behind him. They emerged on top of the long boom arm, and Ken clung to the side rail, gaping at the city stretched out beneath them.

“You climb up here every day?”

Patrick tugged Ken along the catwalk on top of the boom arm, stopping at the small ladder that dropped into the operator’s cabin below. “Normally I take the elevator,” Patrick admitted. “But there’s only room for one, and it doesn’t work without power.”

“Why did you have to shut the power off again?”

“Fuses,” said Patrick, holding up the small bubble pack he’d gotten from the terminal manager’s office. “Not a big deal, but I’ve got to expose a half-dozen circuit boards to get to them, and if I short one of them out, I’ll have more than a few minutes of work on my hands.”

“You replace parts yourself?”

“Just stuff like this,” Patrick admitted. “It’s like changing the brake light on a car; it’s user serviceable. We change them all out every six months because anything that interrupts loading or unloading a ship, even for an hour, can drive up overhead costs by thousands of dollars. A few of them have been blown for weeks, but I can work without the monitors with Ethan’s help. I haven’t gotten a chance to fix them yet because we’ve been too busy.”

“That sounds like a lot of pressure to get things done. It’s got to be stressful.”

“It’s not that bad. And every longshoreman on the docks gets a bonus based on how many containers we move during the year. It’s nearly a quarter of our pay, so there’s definitely an incentive to keep on schedule. Ahead of schedule is better, though, and I’m good at that.” Patrick unlatched the top hatch of the operator’s cabin and climbed onto the ladder.

“What are you doing?” Ken asked, his eyes bulging.

“Come on down. It’ll be tight with two of us, but it’s safer to be in here than out on the boom.”

“Boom?”

Patrick nodded down the length of the enormous crane arm they were standing on.

“So, you don’t work up there?” Ken asked, looking up at the top of the support frame.

“I couldn’t see from up there. Come down here, you’ll understand.”

Patrick ducked around the seat and harness, making room for Ken to join him. When Ken stepped off the ladder and turned around, he gasped. He scrambled backward, gripping the ladder behind him.

“It’s straight down….”

“Yeah. But it’s enclosed. You’re safe,” Patrick promised him.

“Yeah, what are there all these straps, then?”

“Mostly because you can’t really sit down,” Patrick explained. “They hold you in at the right angle, help you relax. Try it, see for yourself.”

Ken reluctantly let go of the ladder, took the operator’s chair in a white-knuckled grip, and inched forward toward the edge of the visible floor. He leaned over the edge of the seat, which was propped up over a safety glass floor to give the operator a clear view of everything beneath them. The seat was angled forward, positioning the operator at an angle that made it look more like a slide than a chair. “The straps hold you in the seat?”

“That’s right.”

Ken, being careful not to step on the glass floor, climbed into the seat, holding himself up in an awkward squat. “Holy shit,” he whispered, staring down into the dark water below them. “You work up here every night? Like this?”

“Neat, huh?”

“Neat?” Ken squeaked. “I guess if you don’t mind feeling like you’re going to fall out.”

“Some guys do have a problem with that. But this”—Patrick hopped up and down on the glass—“isn’t going to break. Even if the frame breaks and the entire thing comes down, this stuff should be able to withstand the impact. Of course, I’d be splattered across the glass by the impact, so I don’t know if it’d matter by then.”

“That’s… that’s actually not reassuring. At all.”

Patrick just laughed at him, then fished a flashlight out of his jacket and crouched down to the maintenance panel. “Give me a minute.”

“Pat, are you sure it’s okay for me to be up here?” Ken whispered, staring down at Patrick and clear floor beneath him. They hadn’t run into anybody on the way in, but since most of the activity at the port was happening in the storage yard behind lines of yellow police tape, that wasn’t surprising.

“Oh, hell no. I’d be in deep shit if we got caught.”

“So maybe I should—”

Patrick produced a multitool from somewhere and began to unscrew the access panel, then popped the old fuses out. “Hold these,” he said, pressing them into Ken’s hand. “And no, you shouldn’t go back up. In here, the wind might shake the cabin, but there’s no chance of it blowing you over the edge. Don’t go back up without me, okay?”

“Uh, all right.”

Patrick replaced the fuses quickly, put everything back together again, and scribbled his initials on a piece of paper taped to the outside of the panel. The components were beneath two joysticks with touch-screen monitors overhead. They wrapped around the operator’s chair from the side to leave the floor and the space between the operator’s legs totally open. Patrick sat back in the open space, kneeling on the glass right between Ken’s legs. He could tell from the way Patrick’s gaze lingered on him that Patrick wasn’t nervous at all. Every time Ken focused his gaze on the world below Patrick, he felt his stomach flutter, but he liked to think he was doing a good job of hiding it.

Patrick turned off his flashlight and folded up the packaging the new fuses had come in. He took the old fuses from Ken’s hand and slipped them into his coat pocket. Then he settled back, sitting on his heels, and smiled up at Ken. “You should relax. Enjoy the view.”

“It’s….” Ken swallowed hard.

Patrick rocked up toward his lap. “Here.” He brought the straps of the harness around and wrapped them across Ken’s chest, clicking each into place. His fingers traced the straps like they were running over Ken’s bare skin. “Lean forward, let the harness hold your weight.”

“This isn’t turning into some weird BDSM kink, is it?” Ken asked. “Because exciting as that sounds, this is….”

Patrick sank to his knees again so all Ken could focus on was the city falling away below them. Patrick laughed and sat back. “Not a kink,” he said. “Just trying to help you relax.”

Patrick ran his hands up the inside of Ken’s thighs, shoving his knees apart. No matter how much the height was freaking him out, Ken’s cock was at full attention. Patrick pulled the button and zipper of Ken’s jeans loose and slipped his hand inside Ken’s boxers, letting his erection pop free of the tight fabric. Patrick didn’t waste a moment. He swallowed Ken fast, hollowing his cheeks to create a rhythmic, pulsing vacuum around him. He kept his tongue at Ken’s slit for a moment, licking him relentlessly.

“Oh God,” Ken whispered. His body shook under Patrick’s ministrations, but he didn’t dare move deeper into Patrick’s mouth and closer to the glass edge. He carefully loosened his grip from the chair and leaned his full weight on the straps so he could curl his fingers in Patrick’s hair, trying to pull Patrick closer to him instead.

Patrick let him, sucking and licking in turn, his expression stunning. Ken’s breathing picked up, and every muscle from his stomach to his toes tightened. He tried to stop shaking, to calm down, but Patrick just sucked him in deeper.

Patrick slipped away for a moment, fumbling with his own jeans. He pulled his cock out of his briefs, wrapped his right hand around the base, and then swallowed Ken once more.

“Oh fuck, I wish I could reach you,” Ken gasped. “That might just be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ken curled his fingers in Patrick’s hair again, using the red curls as leverage to pump into Patrick’s mouth with shallow, quick thrusts. Patrick stroked himself fast, matching the pace Ken set.

“Do you have any idea how incredible you look? What it does to me to know sucking my dick turns you on?”

Patrick groaned around him and stroked himself faster. He seemed to be losing the battle to keep his lips and tongue coordinated, but he sucked Ken in deep and hard.

“That’s it…. Almost…,” Ken panted, but he forced himself to keep talking, kept his voice low and deep just to watch Patrick’s reaction.

The more he talked, the more intense and glazed Patrick’s eyes became. He wanted to watch Patrick finish, but when Patrick screwed his eyes shut, Ken was blindsided by a pulsing orgasm that shot through him like he’d touched a live wire. He came in one spurt after another, filling Patrick’s mouth. His entire body shuddered. He bent forward as far as the harness allowed, slipping out of Patrick’s mouth and smearing come across his lips.

“I can’t believe you get off just from listening to me,” Ken whispered, sagging with relief. “I love it, but I still can’t believe it.”

Patrick chuckled and reached for a paper towel, cleaning up his own hand and cock before tucking himself back into his pants.

Ken caught Patrick’s hand as soon he stood up again. “That seems like a waste,” he whispered, pulling Patrick’s fingers into his mouth. There wasn’t much left, but the salty-sweet taste still lingered on Patrick’s fingers.

“You okay?” Patrick asked, leaning so close Ken couldn’t see the emptiness beneath them.

Ken nodded, slowly catching his breath. “Better. But now I’m jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“I never have this much fun in my office. And I don’t even have a window.”

“Well, maybe I’ll come bug you at work next weekend. You did say you’re the only one there Saturdays.”

Ken shook his head slowly. “I wish. There are security cameras all over. I’d never live it down.”

Patrick reached around Ken and held his waist. “Pity,” he said, licking Ken’s lips. “I kind of like your desk.”

“I’ve got a desk at home.” Ken shifted forward against the straps of the harness, willing to let them hold all of his weight to claim Patrick’s lips in a deep, slow kiss. When he pulled away, he looked out over Puget Sound and the endless urban sprawl across the water, and sighed. “Thank you for showing this to me. It’s almost surreal.”

“Think I can persuade you to let me fuck you up against the glass?” Patrick asked.

Ken stopped staring at the city skyline and focused on him. “No,” Ken said quickly.

“You don’t want to?”

“Oh, that’s not it. I think you just made me discover a dormant fear of heights.” He unbuckled the harness straps and slipped off the operator’s seat, a little unsteady on his trembling legs. He stepped back onto the metal and pulled Patrick into his arms, off the glass portion of the floor. “You can totally fuck me, but not there. Even back here would be fine, but I can’t do that.”

“Oh”—Patrick flashed him a teasing, sweet smile—“but that’s the only place in here where there’d be enough room.”

Ken stepped back again until he ran into something cold, metallic, and sharp that poked into his lower back.

Ken glanced down through the glass again and shook his head. He shut his eyes and took a long, deep breath. “I can get past it. I think.”

“It’s all right,” Patrick said quietly. “I want you to enjoy it, and that’d be tricky if you’re freaking out.”

Ken let go of a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “My place, then?”

A light blinked to life below them, glowing windows from the elevated terminal office. The cabin hummed to life around them, the quiet buzz of the power being restored. “Well, fuck it all,” Patrick chuckled. “I might get in trouble after all.”

“Are they starting up work again?” Ken asked, leaning over to try to see if the dark equipment on the dock below them was moving.

“Don’t know. We should get out of here while we’ve got the chance.” Patrick slipped out of his arms and grabbed the ladder behind him.

Ken followed Patrick down this time, grateful Patrick took his time and climbed down at a pace Ken could keep up with safely. Instead of climbing down to the ground, Patrick walked along a blue steel catwalk to a small door that looked more like a porthole cover than part of a regular building.

The door was ajar and a dim yellow light streamed out, cutting across the dark catwalk. “Hello?” Patrick called out.

An older man in a pair of faded jeans and a heavy winter coat popped his head out. “Connelly? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Patrick seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Ken noticed that he positioned himself right in the middle of the catwalk, trying to shield Ken from view. “Replacing the fuses for those back light panels. Since no one’s doing anything until the cops finish their shit, I figured it’d be better to get it done now than let it slow us down next week, you know?”