It rained on Monday, driving rain, harsh wind whipping tree branches against the windows.
It rained on Tuesday, steady rain, pouring down like a shower, dripping off his raincoat onto the floors at the JEH.
It rained on Wednesday. In the morning, Spender opened his curtains and looked out at the drizzle. The clock radio predicted it would continue for at least three days, maybe longer. The humidity made his hair curl tightly and it was beginning to feel heavy and dense, like a bushy helmet. He went out on his lunch hour and had it cut.
Walking to his apartment in the evening, he kept off the worst of the spatter with his umbrella, but a cab splashed him with a wave of muddy water from a puddle. He hoped his pants weren't ruined. Shaking off the umbrella, he closed it and went in.
The elevator was empty, but the wet smells of a dayful of people hung in the air. It was hot and Spender pulled at his tie, loosening it a little before punching the button for his floor. Lurching into motion, the elevator climbed one story and stopped to let someone on.
"Hi, Jeff."
Spender looked up. "It's you..."
"It's me." Krycek. A man for all seasons in his black denim and leather. Water droplets clung to his jacket and his hair was plastered to his scalp. The elevator began to move again and Krycek punched the stop button. "You have something I want."
"What?"
Krycek didn't answer, just moved closer, took Spender's wrists. The umbrella and briefcase thumped onto the cheap green carpeting. Drawing Spender's arms above his head, Krycek pinned him to the wall. Spender didn't even try to struggle, just watched as Krycek leaned in, just opened his mouth under the kiss.
The heat was almost unbearable. So was the press of the hard body against his own, the dull grind of hipbones, the weight of chest to chest. Then Krycek slid down onto his knees and gave Spender the most amazing blowjob of his life, such explosive, short-circuiting pleasure that it was probably worthy of a global flood and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Standing gracefully, Krycek spat into the corner, started the elevator, and got off at the next floor, all without a word, leaving Spender to fumble with his clothes and catch his breath. The scent of sex and leather was strong.
The elevator arrived at his floor. Spender picked up his briefcase. His umbrella was gone.
It rained on Thursday.
The rain, it raineth all around
On both the just and unjust fella.
But more, it seemeth, on the just,
For the unjust hath the just's umbrella.
-- Anon
FINIS