Author's Note: This is another collab effort between me and why-yes-i-do-like-that-show. You can find both of us on Tumblr, under the same user names! The cover art used for this story is a mock romance cover that I designed for this story ^u^ Enjoy!
The midafternoon sun beat down mercilessly on Dean Smith's back as he ran the soapy brush over the window, corner to corner and then top to bottom. Thirty floors up and no breeze, Dean thought he was going to melt before he got to his last floor. He dropped the brush in the bucket, leaning the long handle against the railing of his suspended scaffold and then reached for the squeegee. He could feel the sweat dripping from his neck and down his back as he pressed the squeegee against the glass moving slowly from left to right from top to bottom, the water sloshing down to the next floor.
He looked at his reflection in the clean tinted glass and grimaced. His dirty blond hair was plastered to his head and his shirt was soaked at the underarms and the center of his chest where the buckle of his harness met. He was sure he had a matching wet spot across his back. He was not going to make it five more floors in this heat and he hoped the guys were enjoying their time in the shade. How he drew the west side of their afternoon building, again, was a mystery. He was starting to think the straws were rigged.
After wiping his brow with a rag, he pushed on the control handle, moved down another floor and opened his water bottle. It wasn't all that cold anymore, but as he reached the twenty-ninth floor and stopped the scaffold, he decided on a better use of the water. Unbuckling the chest portion of his harness and leaning back against the rail, he peeled his damp shirt from his overheated skin, bent at the waist and let the water trickle over his neck and muscular shoulders.
He yelped at the temperature difference and tossed his head back laughing. The instant cool pulled goosebumps from his skin and he ran a hand over his chest to wipe the excess away, his nipple a pebble against his palm. He tipped the bottle once more right over his head, the water cascading through this hair and down his face. Chuckling again and feeling refreshed, he shook his head like a wet dog before setting the bottle aside and refastening his harness. He'd put his shirt back on, but not until the next floor; his naked wet skin was so much more comfortable.
Sam Wesson stood beside his desk, a cup of forgotten coffee in his hand, staring slack-jawed at the ruggedly sexy man just outside his office window. He had been working at this law firm long enough to hardly pay any attention to the window washers that came by every six months anymore, but this one? Christ, just the first glimpse Sam had caught of him over his shoulder when he had pulled to a stop on his floor was enough to send all the blood rushing from his head straight down to his dick. And when the man on the scaffold outside, with hot summer sunlight sparking off the tips of his dusky hair and highlighting the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose and shoulders, pulled his shirt off and doused himself with half a bottle of water, Sam very nearly came in his slacks.
He cleared his throat, hooking a finger behind the knot of his tie to loosen the suddenly restrictive slip of fabric, then reached down to adjust the uncomfortable bulge growing in his boxers. Suddenly self-conscious that someone passing beside his office would see him in such an obvious state of arousal, Sam whipped his head to the door behind him and sighed when he saw that it was closed. He turned back to the window after setting his now cold coffee on his desk, deciding to indulge himself in the sight of the half-naked window washer before him a little longer. His coffee refill could wait.
The man reached up with his brush, spreading sudsy water across the window, utterly oblivious to anyone on the other side of the glass, and Sam groaned as the rigid muscles at the man's side bunched and flexed with the movement. He moved closer to the window, helplessly drawn to the image before him, his hand, seemingly of its own accord, reaching down to the front of his trousers again to palm against his hardening cock.
After the man had coated the window in soap, he began to swipe the squeegee across it. His whole body seemed to tighten as he did so, each muscle moving in a steely ripple, his skin pinkening and glowing from the shimmering heat around him. It was suddenly far too much for Sam. He glanced back to the door, noting that it was still closed, and moved a little closer to the window, trying to undo his belt as quickly as possible. But his fingers, trembling and numb with excitement, fumbled the buckle and his hand slipped off, thumping loudly against the glass pane before him. He froze, immediately mortified.
The beautiful man on the scaffold too stood frozen for a moment before leaning his cupped face to the window to peer in at him. Sam took a reflexive step back and looked down to rebuckle his belt, but a responding knock pulled his eyes back to the window.
Dean was pointing at Sam and then himself in turns with one hand and making the universal "jerking off" motion with the other, asking. His eyes were sparkling, the color obscured by the tint but pale nonetheless, and he had a half smile pulling at his full lips. Sam was sure his eyes were betraying him and he flushed deep at being caught. Would a window washer really be okay with what Sam was about to do? Weren't they all beefy roughnecks like construction workers? Apparently not this one.
Sam hid his face behind his hands for a moment, sheepishly nodding, and then chuckled as Dean did a victory dance, his swaggering making the hanging scaffold wobble. He laughed again when, after a moment of panic, Dean grabbed the rail to save himself from tipping out.
Dean was stoked now. In the years that he'd worked construction and maintenance, he'd been oogled by many women but only a few men. The thought of a free show from that mountain of a man with shaggy hair and puppy eyes made him a bit delirious. He leaned in to make sure the man on the inside hadn't walked away before gesturing again. This time he tried to ask if anyone was near them and, when he was sure that Sam was alone, he leaned against the window, his forearm now blocking the sun, trailed his fingers from his still hard nipple to his belly button and then gestured for Sam to continue.
Sam swallowed thickly, bringing his trembling hands back to his belt buckle, finally undoing it properly, all the while asking himself if this was really happening.
He had never been an exobitionist, far from it in fact, and was mostly shy and modest when it came to sex. But the handsome onlooker watching him with that intense gaze seemed to effectively evaporate any shame or embarrassment Sam had been holding onto at the thought of masturbating in front of a total stranger.
Drawing his zipper down, Sam slowly tugged his boxers down enough for his hardened cock to spring free. It bobbed up toward his stomach, aching and fully engorged and Sam wasted no time in bringing his hand up to spit into his palm.
He kept his eyes locked on the man outside the window as he wrapped his hand around his dick, slowly coating the entire length of it with his own saliva and rubbing the edge of his thumb through the precome oozing from the head. He pumped his hand down his shaft and then back up with a delicious twisting motion that he loved the best and felt his toes curl in his shoes.
Dean's mouth fell slack for a moment at the sight. Dress slacks open just at the fly and leaning back on the desk, inside man was breathtaking in his slow twisting strokes. The warmth of the afternoon was nothing compared to the heat pooling below his belt and he used his free hand to adjust himself through his jeans, the leg straps of the harness highlighting his growing bulge.
He smirked at the man's reaction to his movements, clenched teeth and hard tug in answer to Dean touching himself. Dean ran his forefinger over his bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth and dragging it out slowly to run his tongue over the tip. He wondered what his partner in crime would taste like as he did it again, this time nibbling before suckling the digit. He saw a shudder race through the professional, his own dick jerking in response.
He lifted his head from his arm long enough to glance around, figuring that at this height no one would see him, but found another wash crew one building over. Pressing his eyes to his forearm in frustration, he cursed to himself but grabbed his hard cock through his jeans anyway. Breathing through his mouth, imaging the man's scent crossing his tongue, Dean squeezed tightly and watched Sam's strokes pick up speed.
Sam's pulse was thundering in his ears from the rapid twists of his slick fist and he felt a tremor shake through his whole body as he watched the man outside squeezing at his bulging package. Sam brought his free hand up, pointer and middle fingers slipping past his lips, absently mimicking the man's previous movements.
Dean's quickening breaths momentarily fogged the window he'd just cleaned as he continued kneading and squeezing at his throbbing dick through his jeans, feeling his lower gut tighten up even more when the business man began running his fingers over and under his tongue.
Sam was suddenly struck with an image, shocking in its clarity, of the man outside on his knees with Sam's dick pushing past his plush lips, pumping into his mouth deep enough to make the man gag and choke around the intrusion. The vivid fantasy was finally enough to shove Sam over the edge of completion. His back bowed with the shattering force of the orgasm that suddenly ripped through him as he sat on the edge of his desk and he let out a strangled groan, watching with fascination as long, pearly strings of white fluid shot from his cock with enough force to splatter thickly against the window before him.
Watching the cum splash onto the window and drip lazily down the glass pulled Dean to completion as well. His mind's eye imagining his stomach and chest coated in the sticky mess pummeled him brutally as sudden and overwhelming pleasure crashed through his body, wetness filling his boxers.
Shaking and boneless now, he thumped his head against the glass in exhaustion and grabbed the rail for support. He could almost hear the other man laughing through the thick window and a smile kissed Dean's own lips.
He cupped his face again and saw the man had turned his back to him and was writing at his desk. He jumped and almost fell backwards when his walkie-talkie chirped at him.
"Base to Dean," Benny's voice crackled. He grabbed the radio from its place at the control handle and squawked back his go-ahead.
"You okay up there?" Benny sounded concerned. "You've been on that floor for a while. I can't see you but I can see your scaffold." Dean snickered at that and answered Benny as another knock at the glass made him lean in again.
"I got a little overheated, brother," Dean admitted. "I was just taking a breather. How'd I get the west side again?" He jerked his head back when he realized what he was looking at - a phone number written in large black marker with the name "SAM" under it.
"Hot damn!" he yelped and swapped the walkie-talkie for his cell, saving the number and then shooting a quick text with his own name. He leaned in and watched as Sam got the text, blushed and then replied:
i better clean my side of the window huh dean
if you need help cleaning anything else just let me know. im free at 6
ill meet you in the lobby then
Sam laughed again as Dean did another victory dance before giving Sam a thumbs up, a wave and moved his scaffold down to the next floor, a deliriously happy grin on his face the entire time.