There's a thunderstorm outside, raging and wailing against the windows. It's an odd enough occasion on Caprica - they don't know rain the way Libron and Aquaria do - that people are standing at the windows watching the silver droplets splatter against the glass. The thunder rumbles and the room seems to shake with it, tables rattling in their moorings, chairs scraping against the floors.

"They say every lightning strike is Zeus's orgasm."

She nearly chokes on her laugh and he lets his smile grow, shifting so that he's almost facing her, his knee up on the bench between them. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, her grin sly and knowing. "And every drop of rain is his seed raining down?"

He grimaces. "Okay, you've ruined a perfectly good pick up line."

"Are you trying? To pick me up?"

"Is it not obvious? Am I that bad at this?" He smiles more, his hand across the back of the bench, his fingers close to touching her shoulder. He tilts his head and watches her. "I am that bad at this."

"You're not bad," she assures him.

"You're not interested?"

"I didn't say that." Her hair tickles his fingers as she tilts her head, matching his with another smile. It's nearly blinding, as bright as the Caprica sun that normally paints the carpets with streaks of gold. "They say that every lightning strike is Zeus's thrust. Every thunder rumble is the low growl of his demands as he penetrates Hera's flesh."

"Maybe not Hera. Our boy Zeus gets around."

"Does he?" Her expression is all innocence as she stands up, walking past him and trailing her fingers over his shoulder.

He raises his head and she brushes his chin with those same fingers. "That's the rumor."

"Rumor says you have a girlfriend."

He stands up and falls into step behind her, watching her walk. The sway of her hips is invitation itself and he can't help but grin. "By the end of the day, rumor might be right."

He leaves her on the bed, her body flushed with heat and sex and satiation. Her breathing is low and reedy, and her perfect breasts rise and fall in rhythm with her pulse as it slows. He watches her as he dresses. There's something wild in her eyes and he moves back to the bed, trailing his fingers along her naked stomach.

"Rain stopped."

"Guess Zeus got what he wanted."

He nods slowly and lets his fingers glide up between her breasts to the hollow of her throat, the pads of his fingers rubbing gently against the perspiration slick skin. He leans down and kisses her, his tongue parting her lips and tasting her whisper sweet breath. It's good until she gasps in surprise, his fingers digging deeper, pressing harder until he can feel her skin give way, structures breaking down, and then it's perfect.

She wants to fight but she's caught off guard and his hand is strong, his fingers sure. He kisses her until her breath fades, her lungs giving up one last breath and he takes it in, takes that scent that she wears and that she is inside him.

He pulls back and smiles, standing and running his hand through his hair. He tilts his head then reaches down and rearranges hers on the pillow, letting his fingers trail back down her body again, circling the hardened nubs of her nipples.

His smile widens further and he pulls his hands away, adjusting his shirt and making sure his uniform creases are aligned just so. "Zeus always gets what he wants." He thinks about his father, thinks about power. "One of the pleasures of being an Olympian."