Standard disclaimers apply, there not mine, if they were I would have them better trained, and in competition
This is what happens when your A/C goes out in the middle of August
and you live in Las Vegas!
"The temperature here in Seacover has reached a new August high!" The radio announcer's voice took on a tone of wonderment as he continued his noon report. "And you thought yesterday was hot! It's only 12:05 and the red line is reaching for 100, degreeeees!" Well, folks it's time to hug those Air Conditioners!" Duncan shook his head and reached for the car radio as he pulled up in front of the dojo.
It was nice to be home after four days of lecturing art history to a bunch of uninterested, boarded collage students. Ken Reddy had called him late Thursday night conning him into filling the unexpected vacancy at Denver's Art festival. A weekend in the mile high city sounded great and in a moment of weakness he agreed.
MacLeod felt the signature of another immortal as he stepped into the elevator. He grinned, good Methos was still here. Reaching into his carry on bag he pulled out the gift he had brought for friend. They had been friends for almost a year now and lovers for a little over a month. It was an orange and blue Broncos jersey he had picked up in Denver. It had started out as a joke, buying the old man outrageous shirts, the highlander thought if he kept buying him ridiculous shirts he could someday get him out of those oversized sweaters. It was the middle of summer, and the man still wore sweaters. It was with that thought that he noticed the heat. It was hot in the elevator, very hot.
As the doors opened, the heat rolled over him like a wave of invisible lava. He had slightly noticed that the dojo had been warm but this, what happen to the A/C? As he entered the room his eyes started towards the thermostat controls on the inside wall, but they were diverted by a fervent sight.
Methos was stretched out on the couch, stripped down to blue boxers, two box fans were angled on the floor to either side of him. The floor was littered with empty beer bottles. Two large bowls (one a priceless Celt antique) were filled with ice and water sat in front of the fans. Both bowls were filled with amber beer bottles one with open labels removed, the other still capped.
The sweat beaded on MacLeod's forehead as Methos slowly tilted the dark amber bottle in his hand. Eyes closed he released a stream of clear liquid over the top of his head. In the sme motion he brought up his left hand rubbing the fluid into his hair and down his long neck.
Long pale fingers held the necked bottle loosely as he continued to pour silvery liquid slowly down his chest, his left hand following again spreading the cooling moisture into the tight sparse hair of his chest and shoulders. Duncan stood frozen as the bottle slowly moved over his torso and lingered a moment over the waistband of his pale boxers.
The bottle hovered for a moment before gently tipping, spilling the last of its content over the only piece of clothing the ancient one wore. The liquid was absorbed instantly into the pale cloth clearly outlining the long gracefully outline of the immortals cock.
"Methos" Duncan could not keep quiet as the older ones left hand slipped down his torso fingers splayed to catch every drop of moisture as they slipped over that inviting budge. The Scotsman licked his lips and tearing his eyes away from the sight on the couch he noticed for the first time the absent of window glass and the scorched mark where the thermostat should have been. A frown fluttered across his dark features.
The room was hot, he could feel his pores releasing fluid that quickly coated his skin, making him feel damp and sticky. His eyes returned to the damp scrawling figure in the middle of the room. Hazel eyes were staring into his, the pale hand now wrapped around a different bottle.
He watched as the bottle lifted this time destined for the soft lips of his lover. Duncan assumed this one was filled with more then water, as the immoral took a long drink before rasing gracefully. One hand kept hold of the bottle the other reached for the pair of loose running shorts thrown carelessly over a chair back.
"Next time you need someone to house sit." Methos paused to finish the last of the beer and dropping the bottle with it's mates on the floor he gathered up a light knit shirt from the back of the couch. "Loose my phone number." He reached down for the cylinder shaped duffel bag, as usual in easy reach. "The repair man said it would take a few days to replace your unit it was almost as old as I am."
The elder one glided up to him briefly touching him on his chin. "Sorry about the window. Call me when the A/C's fixed and I will tell you the whole story, over a beer or two." Slinging the duffel over one shoulder he headed for the door by passing the oven like elevator. "I'm out of here."
Watching him leave Duncan carefully wiped the pooling sweat off his face with a brand new Broncos tee shirt.
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