“You came prepared,” I say, my voice embarrassingly breathless.
“I’m always prepared for you,” Julian replies, and I feel the cool slickness of lube as he reaches around to unbutton my pants. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you here since I first visited.”
From this vantage point, I can see the entire footprint of my new gallery—twice the size of the old one, already taking shape below us. The eastern wing, which will house LGBTQ+ artists, stretches out like an embrace. The sight fills me with a strange mixture of pride and vulnerability.
“Look at what we’re building,” Julian whispers against my ear as he enters me slowly, deliberately, making me feel every inch. “This is yours. This is ours.”
My fingers tighten around the metal railing as he pushes deeper, the cold steel contrasting with the heat building inside me. The pain and pleasure blend just like they always do with Julian—exquisite and overwhelming.
“They can see us,” I gasp, noticing movement below. Several workers have paused their tasks, eyes drawn upward to our exposed position.
Julian’s hand slides beneath my shirt, possessive against my bare skin. “Let them. Let everyone see who you belong to.”
Two laborers nudge each other, pointing up with knowing grins. One of them adjusts himself through his jeans, palm lingering as he watches Julian’s measured thrusts. The other doesn’t bother with subtlety, openly pawing at the bulge in his workpants.
“Julian,” I moan, caught between embarrassment and a shocking surge of arousal.
“Do you like being watched?” Julian asks, his voice thick with desire. “Having them see exactly who you are now? Who you’ve always been?”
A forklift operator glances up, then quickly averts his eyes, moving on with his task as if he’s seen nothing. A few others follow suit, returning to their work with deliberate focus.
But one worker—tall, tattooed, with a hard hat pushed back on his head—steps behind a stack of materials. His breathing visibly quickens as his hand disappears beneath his waistband; eyes locked on us. His movements become rhythmic, matching Julian’s pace as he starts stroking his cock in plain view.
“Look,” Julian commands, turning my chin so I can see the man pleasuring himself to our performance. “See what you do to people? How beautiful you are when you’re being fucked?”
Julian’s hand snakes around my waist, wrapping firmly around my cock as he continues to thrust into me. The coolmorning air against my exposed skin contrasts with the heat of his palm. I shudder, caught between his body and the railing.
“Look at him,” Julian whispers against my ear. “He can’t take his eyes off you.”
The tattooed worker leans against a stack of lumber, his hand working furiously inside his jeans. His mouth hangs slightly open, chest heaving with each breath. Sweat beads on his forehead despite the morning chill.
“He’s imagining it’s his cock inside you,” Julian continues, his strokes matching his thrusts. “But he’ll never have you. You’re mine.”
The worker’s eyes meet mine across the distance. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t pretend this isn’t happening. Instead, he pulls his cock completely free of his pants, thick and flushed as he strokes it openly.
“Fuck,” I gasp, my hips bucking involuntarily between Julian’s hand and his cock.
“That’s it,” Julian growls, tightening his grip. “Show him how much you love being fucked. Show him what he can never have.”
My body tightens around Julian as pressure builds at the base of my spine. The worker’s hand moves faster, his jaw clenched, muscles straining beneath his T-shirt.
“Watch him,” Julian demands, his voice strained as his rhythm falters. “Watch him watching you come.”
Heat explodes through me as I climax, spilling over Julian’s fist and onto the metal platform below. Julian’s teeth graze my shoulder as he pushes deeper, his movements becoming erratic.
“Taking my cum so perfectly,” he pants, hips slamming against me one final time as he empties himself inside me.
Across the construction site, the worker throws his head back, his hand a blur as he reaches his own release, cum spattering onto the dirt at his feet.
My legs tremble as Julian slowly pulls out, both of us breathing hard. The worker tucks himself away with shaking hands, giving us one last heated glance before disappearing around the corner of the foundation.
Julian and I adjust our clothing, my hands still trembling slightly from the intensity of what we’ve just done. The metal scaffolding creaks beneath us as we straighten ourselves out, a breeze cooling the sweat on my skin.
“That was...” I trail off, not quite finding the words.
Julian smiles—not his usual cruel smirk, but something softer, more genuine. He leans in and places a gentle kiss on my lips, so different from the demanding passion of moments ago.
“That was us claiming what’s ours,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Everything we’re building together.”