Catch the Thunder

BY : Rhov
Category: +. to F > Fairy Tail
Dragon prints: 14112
Disclaimer: Fairy Tail is the property of Hiro Mashima. I make no money, I just do this for my own pleasure.

Chapter 22



The Lonely Angel

"Freed Justine."

Freed wore the traditional academic regalia, a cap and gown, with a stole, cords, and medallion for various honors and for graduating magna cum laude. As he came forward and walked across a stage, he heard Loke roaring wildly while his family applauded politely. He shook hands with the university dean and accepted his diploma. There were a few more dignitaries to shake hands with, a photo to take, and then he walked down some steps with the next graduating student already being called up.

Just like that, he transformed from college student to a graduate with his bachelor's degree in business. However, as he returned to his seat in a sea of square caps and long robes reminiscent of ancient European universities, he did not look as happy as he probably should have been.

There was one person missing that day. He looked down at the silver band with the gold lightning bolt etched into it and offered a silent prayer that Laxus was safe.

Like they had planned, he had told his friends and family that he and Laxus broke up. His mother called from Paris and said he would be better off with someone of his own social standing; she then listed off many available people, females and males. His father gave condolences and told him to be cautious while finding another dominant. Bickslow and Evergreen seemed truly heartbroken. Apparently, they both had really liked Laxus. Loke offered to hook him up with someone, but when he saw that Freed was not interested in dating yet, he took Freed out to get drunk instead.

No one seemed to notice the ring on his right hand, or if they did, they said nothing about it.

The graduation itself was a haze of speeches, names, applauding, more speeches, and finally a roaring cheer as they were dismissed. Freed was dragged into pictures with classmates, his fencing club teammates, and his family who were proud that he was now a real adult. Both of his parents had come, putting aside their marital issues for the sake of their son. It was nice to see them together, but Freed sympathized with his mother. If something like that happened between him and Laxus…

If he found out Laxus had cheated on him…

Freed jolted and shook his head as soon as the thought entered his mind. It seemed ridiculous. Laxus was deeply loyal. It was his idea to get the promise rings.

Was he worried that Freed would cheat? Was that why he bought the rings? Was he afraid that the same thing that happened to Llewellyn, the same craving to be dominated and humiliated, would flow through Freed's veins like some sort of family curse?

"Freed!"

He jolted and looked over. It was the man who graduated top in their class, a man who, so it was rumored, could memorize absolutely anything by seeing it just once: Rufus Lore. Freed had admired him for some time, a legend in the school with his perfect grades and mysterious aura. This man came up to Freed and, instead of shaking hands, gave a courteous old-fashion bow.

"Congratulations to you, Freed. You definitely deserve the magna cum laude. I had the honor of reading your thesis on business paradigms in sixteenth century Japan and its application in modern day pan-Pacific import and export. Fascinating historic detail!"

"That means a lot coming from you, Rufus," Freed said, feeling truly honored that this legendary scholar was pleased with his hard work and in-depth research. That thesis had taken months to write.

"I see a lot of potential in you. I would love to sit down and discuss economic theory with you. Perhaps—" His hand lightly brushed over Freed's wrist. "—lunch some time."

Freed looked at those delicate hands. He dared not offend this man from the powerful Sabertooth Enterprises. A business arrangement between him and the Justines could be beneficial to their corporation, but Freed cringed at the touch of this man's cold hand.

"S-sure, lunch," he said awkwardly.

A devious smirk curled into Rufus' lips. "Come now, don't feel intimidated by me. Not yet, at least," he added cryptically.

For some reason, Freed's stomach twisted. Was this man actually flirting, or was it his imagination?

"Perhaps next week," Rufus offered. "I have family affairs to attend to this weekend."

"R-right. Same here, Mother's in town and … um … anyway," he muttered, not wanting to babble like an idiot. "Whenever is good for you."

Rufus had an amused gleam in his eyes. "You're quite a complaisant one, aren't you?"

Freed jolted. "Huh?" He was not expecting something like that. Was that a compliment? An insult? Why was Rufus smiling that way?

Rufus pulled out a card and handed it to Freed. "Email me. We'll set up a date."

Freed felt his stomach twist again. Date? "Just lunch, right?" he asked warily.

"Of course! Just lunch and talking. I look forward to seeing you again." Then he turned and was lost in the throng of graduates and families.

Freed held the card in his hand and stared at it. Softly, he muttered, "What the hell just happened?"

Liberty slipped up beside her son. "Rufus Lore of Sabertooth. Quite a fine gentleman. I hear his … ahem … preference is for men of a more … delicate frame. Just like you."

"Mother!" Freed snapped.

"I'm just trying to be supportive. Rufus is a man of the highest calibre. I would not disagree with a … umm … partnership between his family and ours." She laughed tensely. "He was one of the fine gentlemen I suggested, if you recall. A powerful family, a handsome young man with a bright future ahead of him. Really, what more could you ask for?" She looked at him, but Freed's jaw was tense. "My dear, you can't wallow in sadness. Believe me on this: it's best to move on, no matter how deep the love once was. Once it's over, it's gone. It's best to keep moving forward and upward."

"Upward?" he sneered. Was that all she thought about: finding a person of higher status, like climbing some corporate ladder of relationships?

"It happens in relationships as well. It sure did for me. You start at the bottom sometimes—a young and awkward boyfriend with puberty issues, a fling with a tramp, a man who is godlike in appearance but has no manners—and you work your way up until you find that perfect gentleman. I just wish I could say your father was perfect. The man I'm courting in France is—let's just say—a large step up for me." She smiled proudly of moving upward, although Freed hated to think that his parents had already found new partners, as if those years of marriage meant nothing. "Laxus left you—God knows why he would be that stupid—but this just shows how much he didn't comprehend your true value. You were the best he could ever hope to obtain, and he left you in tears out of his own selfishness. I'm sorry if that was a painful shock, I'm sure it was, but now…"

"Mother, stop it," Freed warned softly to avoid attention. "Seriously, stop. Right now. Never speak of him again if you're going to say things like that."

She gave him a hug. "Oh, my poor boy! There's no shame in finding someone better. That's what dating is all about: figuring out what you like, what you don't like, making mistakes before there are legal complications, and eventually finding that person you can love and who loves you even when you're not hiding your true self behind the mask of social propriety."

Freed yanked himself away from her. He knew she meant well, but he hated that she thought so little of Laxus. If he had been rich, grew up attending prep schools and gotten a Harvard degree, would she be this callous?

She was missing a big point, too. With Rufus, Freed would have to hide his true self, that inner masochist who wanted to be spanked and called a bitch and made into a slave. He could never admit things like that to a gentleman like Rufus. Laxus was the only one who not only accepted that side of him, but thrived upon it.

He could never cheat on Laxus. It did not matter how long he was away. He loved Laxus, and he would wait for him. Rufus or any other fine gentlemen were not what Freed wanted. He wanted his thunder god!





After it was all over, they had a gathering with the family in the same restaurant where Laxus had taken him that one night. Freed politely listened to his mother tell him about a clinic she had opened in Paris, while his father told him all about the job Freed would be starting in two weeks. That gave Freed two weeks to vacation and enjoy his hard-earned freedom before starting his adult life as a working man.

He had wanted to start truly at the bottom, working in the mail room or as a secretary. Instead, his father placed him in a junior managerial position. Llewellyn swore it was a legitimate opening; a man had left their company for a better job and the position needed to be filled anyway. Freed actually did have to compete with two other applicants, but his magna cum laude degree was what gave him the edge. Being the son of the CEO was not the only highlight to his job application.

Freed listened quietly, ate obediently, and acted as a proper son should. It was an act he had perfected over twenty-three years. At the end of the night he said farewell to his estranged parents and two siblings. As he walked to his car, he got a text from Loke along with a picture of the ginger playboy wearing a sombrero with three ladies clambering over him.

Come join the fun, the text read. Freed shook his head in amusement and wrote back, Going home. Don't forget protection.

He drove home listening to a classical music station. Mozart's Flute Concerto Number 1 came on. Freed glanced down to the radio. He remembered, this was the song playing that first night when he had taken Laxus with him for some after-work private time. The flute music had helped to calm down Laxus' stomach. After that, Freed had bought many CDs of flute music to play while driving so Laxus could rest at ease. He wondered how that carsick man handled flying on a plane all the way to Greece. Did he remember his headphones? Did he bring some flute music along?

A tear beaded up in Freed's eye, and he blinked it away. There had been no phone calls, no texts, no emails. Laxus truly had cut off everything that tied them together.

Freed pulled into an apartment complex. He had moved in a while ago, needing privacy as he finished his thesis and studied for finals. Now, there was no need to spend the night studying until he passed out. There was nothing to busy his mind. The place felt empty.

Freed walked into the bedroom and changed out of the suit he had worn for graduation. He collapsed naked onto the bed and pulled up his phone.

He had gotten a call from Bob a few weeks ago. He had no idea how that old, bald, cross-dressing bartender found out that Laxus left the country, but Bob wanted to see Freed. He went to the South Pole Club after hours, not wanting to watch the show. He had promised Laxus, no strip clubs. Once the crowd left, Freed entered to find just Bob cleaning things up. The astute bartender instantly noticed the promise ring, encouraged him to wait for Laxus, and gave him a flash drive. He said, "Don't ask how I got it, just enjoy it."

There were pictures of Laxus on it and a video of his show, just him. Freed held up his phone while lying naked in bed. The pictures were of Laxus. In most of them, he was shirtless, just wearing those leather pants, either flexing his muscles or reaching down to his crotch. They were photos for a website promotion, it seemed. Freed gazed at a closeup of his face, that scar, those vivid blue eyes, and he kissed the screen.

"I miss you," he whispered to the picture.

Then he pulled up the video. It started off shaky, but it stabilized as soon as the yellow lights flashed. AC/DC's Thunderstruck blared, and Laxus was on stage. He danced, stripped slowly, and thrust his pelvis in time to the music. Freed's hand drifted down to stroke himself as the song played and Laxus used the brass pole to slide down. The move showcased his large leg muscles and tempted the audience, his knees spread apart, giving a view of the prize wrapped in leather. Freed's fingers squeezed himself and gave him pleasure as he watched the show he had seen dozens of times.

Then, it seemed like Laxus' attention was diverted for just a second. Suddenly, his dancing became more erotic. He did maneuvers Freed knew he normally did not do, like stroking himself through those leather pants, all the time his attention drawn to the side.

It was that day, the first time Freed had returned to the club after his night with Laxus. He had startled the dancer, but that night Laxus had danced for him alone. As the finale came on, Laxus turned to the side. The camera shifted, and Freed saw himself in the video, sitting in his normal booth and staring with a martini in his hand and a gleam of pure lust in his eyes. Whoever was shooting the video—it had to be Bob himself—knew there was something going on between these two. As Laxus lowered his zipper more and more, that bulge was aimed for one man.

"Laxus," Freed groaned, feeling the music and those movements hammer into his groin, just like it always did when he went to the club.

That was the end of the song, but not of the video. The other half of the video was in black and white, a security camera that had captured that night in the VIP room. Everything. Absolutely everything. From Laxus dancing on top of Freed until he came in his pants while wearing a condom, then a bad skip while they had left so Freed could clean up, and then they were back.

Freed watched it all while stroking himself. It was weird, getting off to a video of himself, but he remembered everything about that night. It had been Laxus' first blow job. He watched it play out, every hair pull, every sneer of pleasure, and the soundless conversation that his memory filled in.

"I told you, don't you fucking stop!"

"I'll drool on you."

"Then drool. Make it wet. Make my whole damn crotch wet. I want your spit in my pants, got it?"

Freed tensed as he watched Laxus' face and all of the expressions of pleasure that showed. He heard in his mind that low voice and the groans Laxus gave as he built up to a climax.

"You're damn good. Freed … Greenie! Speed up and make me come, bitch!"

Freed watched Laxus' face, the opened mouth, and the silent moans of pleasure trembling through him. He could see that critical moment when Laxus lost control, when lust won, and he saw his own face as he gulped down the dessert he worked so hard to get. He watched and fondly remembered the bitter taste as it poured over his tongue.

He had swallowed wrong that day. He saw in the video, he had to cough, but that action, swallowing his cum down, had pleased Laxus.

Then he watched some more. Laxus had given back. He had been uncertain since it was his first time sucking off a man. As he recalled, Laxus had issues with it, some sort of a flashback to childhood that made him panic. Laxus later explained how, after the issues with his nefarious father, Laxus could not easily allow something large to enter his mouth. It made him remember the gag his father had used to keep Laxus from biting his tongue as he administered medicines that caused excruciating agony throughout his body. Even after that day, it took a few times before Laxus could give a blow job without flinching from those awful memories.

That day in the VIP room, they had acted out a scene to cover up Laxus' brief freak-out. Eventually, he had calmed down and acted more forceful, wanting to do this, to overcome his fears and give back the pleasure Freed had given to him. Freed had purposely angled himself for the camera, just in case they were being watched. Laxus wanted to show Jellal that he could do more than strip, and obviously someone had saved this video. It made for an amazing display, too. Freed watched himself, how Laxus' mouth worked on his arousal, and he imagined that incredible sensation.

"Laxus!" he cried out into the silent bedroom. "L-Laxus!"

He watched and vicariously recalled how good it felt: that wet mouth, his tongue, how he sucked so hard on the head, and how Laxus liked to reach down and tug lightly on Freed's balls. Freed did the same action now, but it wasn't the same, not quite as good as those massive, rough hands.

His body started to tense up, and he stroked faster. He began to feel lightheaded as his breathing became erratic and his toes curled up, but he held back. The video was almost at that spot. He wanted to wait for it, to hold back until Laxus finished with him … at least in the video. His cock was dripping, but he steeled his stomach muscles to keep from coming too soon.

He saw Laxus grab his ass, pulling Freed in closer, swallowing him down hungrily, just as the video showed Freed tense up and cry out. At the same time, Freed moaned loudly and released his reserve. He came into his hand with a moan. Milky spurts arced out and splattered on his naked torso as he shivered and remembered his thunder god.

"Laxus," he groaned softly in lingering pleasure. "Mmmh … Laxus."

His body buzzed, and the video kept playing. There was not much more to it, though. They had kissed and cuddled for half an hour after that, touching each other, teasing one another, but not much more. It was nice to watch them being sweet together, but the real show was at the beginning.

Freed turned off his phone and set it aside. He stared up at the ceiling while the afterglow still buzzed through him.

Somehow, he would get through this. He did not need a man like Rufus. He did not need another dominant to be his master. That day in the VIP room, Laxus told him, "You're mine. Mine alone. A slave can't have two masters, so you're only mine. My beloved slave."

Freed touched the promise ring, now coated with cum, and smiled to himself. He had his memories, and they would last a lifetime. What were two months, or even two years, with the promise of a lifetime together to look forward to?



Next Chapter: To Guys




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