The rain just kept coming. At least this time it wasn't freezing, Methos grumped to himself. With seventy degree days, these rain drops just fell in quick succession down his face and into the neck of his coat. Reminding himself that it was only another couple of blocks to the loft, he finally decided to enjoy the rainfall instead of curse it.
When had he gotten so used to the comforts of civilization, he mused to himself, skirting a puddle in a caved-in section of sidewalk. Nature and all her manifestations had always fascinated him. The only force more powerful than man, he thought wryly, and I've gotten so used to avoiding her displays of temper that I've relegated her to a nuisance.
The weather goddess Listris would not be amused. He grinned, remembering the days when the gods and goddesses were real. Another puddle was coming up and a fond look crossed his face. Taking a quick look around and seeing no one, he deliberately splashed up and down in the wide pool of collected water.
Reaching the dojo, he hummed Singing in the Rain all the way up the stairs. And that's when he discovered that his keys weren't in his pocket ... any of his pockets. Letting his book bag fall to the floor by the door, he slumped by the door. No feeling of Presence. No sounds or lights from the dojo. Duncan hadn't gotten back from the University and Richie was obviously out and about.
"I could walk over to Joe's. I could sit here and pout. Or I could go up on the roof and make an offering to the gods." He listed his options and felt the siren call of the old pagan days draw him on up the stairs to the pull down ladder that led to the roof.
The smell of rain washed air filled his lungs. They were the tallest building on the block and he headed for the one sheltered spot where he and Duncan sometimes had private picnics. Open to the sky but with the chimney on one side and walls over three feet high on the other three sides, it provided complete privacy for their loving games.
He unrolled the waterproof mat they kept there and spread it out over the roofing felt. Methodically, he began to undress. The goddess had always enjoyed her worshipers naked. Skyclad, the modern pagans called it nowadays. He smiled and pulled his sweater over his head, flinging it to one side. The rain slid down over his skin like tiny hands caressing every square inch. His belt followed . . . then his shoes ... his jeans clung to his legs but by wriggling, he was able to remove them as well. Luckily, he wasn't wearing his boxers or socks.
Free of civilization, he cast his senses out into the elements. The faint tickle of the damp breeze ... the gentle caress of the rain ... the smell of water on bricks and mortar ... the soft rumble of thunder in the distance ... the white hot flash of lightning that followed in a count of five ... then four ... three.
"Mother Listris!" Spreading his arms to the sky, he offered himself to the goddess. The warm rain slid down his body like a lover and his own hands soon began to shape himself for Her pleasure. The cadences of a language long dead rolled out over the rooftop in his canticle to the mistress of weather. And the lightning got closer.
MacLeod was confused. He'd gotten home late from his meeting to find Methos' bookbag by the door but no Methos. Checking the loft, he didn't see him but the feel of his Presence was there. Faint but unmistakably somewhere close by. The dojo had been empty when he came through. So, that left the roof ... where it was raining cats and dogs.
Shaking his head, he moved up the stairs to the ladder. Methos hated getting wet. He was as sybaritic as a cat that enjoyed curling up by a fire when the elements went raw. But water was splashed on the floor under the roof access, so obviously he'd gone crazy and had ventured outside. Climbing the ladder, he pushed open the trap door and got a face full of water. Muttering curses under his breath, he pulled himself onto the roof and cast a quick look around.
The trap door slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers. Duncan felt the breath catch in his throat and his mouth went dry. Through a curtain of rain, the oldest immortal stood with his arms outstretched to the leaden sky. Like a Greek statue come to shimmering life, his body moved slowly, each muscle group rippling in the silvery downpour. A flash of lightning illuminated the familiar face, now as stark as the hawk it resembled.
The head turned at the sound of the falling door and a fierce smile crossed Methos' lips. His hands came down to his waist and one beckoned him to the protected corner. "Duncan. You're just in time."
For a moment, MacLeod couldn't move with a shiver of atavistic fear that froze his body to the roof. It's just Methos. Not one of the ancient ones. The first step was hard but another flash of lightning sent a tingling down his limbs that propelled him across the rain slicked roofing tile to his lover's side.
A chilled hand caressed his cheek and fierce eyes met his with joy. "The weather goddess Listris needs an offering to appease the neglect we've practiced lately."
Duncan's eyes widened in alarm. What the hell?
"She was always partial to human seed." Methos' hands slowly pushed off his lover's raincoat and unbuttoned the cotton shirt. "Perhaps if we both sacrifice to her, this rain will go elsewhere."
Everywhere his hands touched, Duncan burned. He wondered how that could be when it was so damp but those golden eyes held him acquiescent in his disrobing. "Methos?"
The slender man before him hushed him gently and slowly finished peeling the jeans from his feet, one at a time with a steadying hand. Then, while he knelt, he began a slow caress over the calves, past the knees and up the inside of Duncan's shivering thighs. But now it wasn't the rain that made his tanned flesh quiver but a burning touch that ignited his nerves to tingling life.
"Ah, yes. A noble instrument of desire for Our Lady of the Skies." Methos feathered a touch up the length of Duncan's cock that electrified as it passed over the hardening flesh. Then, that warm, sarcastic, wry mouth was descending and devouring the heated organ.
Duncan steadied himself with his hands on either side of his lover's head. Spreading his legs out a little further so he wouldn't fall over, he gave himself over to an almost animalistic enjoyment of the talented tongue that teased him so deliciously. A warm hand fingered his balls and slipped lower to caress the perineum. He shuddered with a sudden need to have them go further and he moaned, unable to articulate his desire.
But Methos read his body and one finger breached the puckered muscle and gently began to rotate within his tight, hot channel. Duncan flexed his buttocks helplessly. "More. I need more."
A low chuckle vibrated his over extended cock and he lost all control, spurting out his seed into Methos' mouth and other hand. His legs felt like wet noodles and he slowly folded onto his hands and knees by his chanting lover. The words were unknown to him but he watched as some of his creamy seed was washed from one upraised hand by the rain.
"There's one, Mother." Methos smiled down and kissed Duncan's panting mouth. "Stay right there, my beautiful one. It's my turn now."
Then he was pressed close behind MacLeod, the lean body covering his like a blanket and burning him with a firebrand of heat. The fingers were back now, slippery with what Duncan realized were his own juices. First two, then three, until his need to be filled overwhelmed his senses.
"Now, Methos. Now." He pushed back hard against the long fingers and felt a spark ignite deep inside. His groan signaled the departure of the nimble invaders and he was bereft until the larger intruder nudged inside the tight ring of muscle. Warm and hard, it slid into his heated depths until it could slide no more.
"Oh gods," Duncan moaned to the rain and flung back his head, flexing like a giant cat.
"Listris will be pleased, my love." That voice flowed over him along with the rain. A clap of thunder rang over them followed almost immediately by a jagged flash of lightning that lit the roof with its radiance. Methos stayed buried within him and Duncan pressed back, needing him to move.
A chuckle was his only answer and he arched back again until, finally, Methos began the long slide out and the unhurried thrust back in. Duncan couldn't tell any more if the tingling along his skin came from the lightning that danced almost continuously about them or from the nerve endings that his lover stimulated at each movement. Those long, teasing fingers stroked over his torso with loving touches over hypersensitive skin.
Methos' voice broke through his hazy thoughts. "Duncan, lean back. Come up with me." Warm hands snaked under his armpits and curled around his shoulders, pulling him back to nestle against the lean muscled chest. That changed the angle of the heated thrusts and Duncan let his head fall backward onto the convenient shoulder, baring his throat to the elements.
A raspy tongue licked behind his ear and he shivered with increased need. "Methos. Please."
"So responsive, Highlander. You are indeed worthy of Her." Methos' voice was warm velvet that soothed his incoherent moans. "Just relax, love. This won't hurt at all." That talented tongue was outlining his ear now and shudders rippled up his spine.
One hand firmly grasped his renewed erection, rubbing just gently enough to tantalize. In this position, he couldn't do more than reach back to grasp Methos' hips and sway in time to the increasingly fervid thrusting. The tingling was back along with the raindrops that cascaded down his upraised face. The lurid flashes of light flickered over his closed eyelids and it felt like a mini-quickening possessed his body.
Methos angled to hit his prostate and began a volley of quick pounding strokes that seized him in an arching spasm, his cock shooting forth in an arc across the roof while his lover came hard deep within his molten depths. With a last crack of thunder, lightning struck the roof.
The resulting electrical charge shorted out both of their nerve systems. When Duncan came to on his side, he smelled the ozone and a burned ... something. It took all his strength to open his eyes and look about them. He could still feel his lover inside him, plastered along his back and legs. But he wasn't moving.
"Methos! Are you all right?" Duncan tried to move but the long arms around his chest just tightened, holding him in place.
"Boy, when Listris says thank you, she really says it with style." Methos murmured just over the sound of the rain. "We'll have to do this again the next time it rains."
Duncan began to laugh. Only his lover would attribute a lightning strike to an ancient goddess. He stopped in mid chuckle. What if ... Nah, it couldn't be. He lay in Methos' arms, contentedly enjoying the freedom to just lie in the rain in the embrace of his love. It was just coincidence and the elevation of the building. That was it ... a scientific explanation that explained exactly what happened.
The Weather Goddess Listris was created by H. Beam Piper in his wonderful book, Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen. It may be hard to find (out of print for years) but it's well worth the trouble of checking your library or used bookstore.