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Catch the Thunder	By : Rhov Category: +. to F > Fairy Tail Views: 17785 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Fairy Tail is the property of Hiro Mashima. I make no money, I just do this for my own pleasure.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter 15
You Really Don't Want to Know
Laxus woke up to see it was dark outside. He glanced over at the clock. Only nine. They had done it not just through two replays of In A Gadda Da Vida, but through three, with their third time being the slow, sensual, gentle lovemaking Laxus had initially wanted. Neither came the third time. They made love until they tired out.
Curled up tightly beside him on the narrow bed was Freed, practically smashed against the wall but looking happy to be by Laxus' side. The blond smiled down at his lover and stroked back his hair.
"You really are something, Greenie," he whispered.
Gently, to not disturb Freed too much, Laxus shifted out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. He relieved himself, then pulled on his clothes. He wanted to let Freed rest as much as he needed, especially after such an experience. He sincerely hoped it had not hurt too badly.
"I wonder how you do this to me," he sighed.
Laxus looked around the dorm room some more. How might it have been if he had gone to a university? It was not like his family was too poor to afford tuition. He just never had an interest in education. He supposed it was not too late to learn. Still, what sort of field could he study? He doubted if there was a major in professional sadism. Maybe he could do something with what he had learned as an electrician, before he discovered that he made more money stripping.
Loke's desk was slightly messy, while Freed's was impeccably tidy. Of course, he might have straightened up before Laxus arrived. He wondered how it looked on a normal day. Was he always tidy? Did his desk get all cluttered up with reports and class notes?
He saw the family photo on the desk again. Freed looked younger in the picture, his hair shorter. He had an enigmatic smile. His sister looked like she was trying too hard to be a model, posing with her lips out in a duck face. The brother looked like a total idiot with his tongue lolling and hair spiked out. There was also something about his eyes…
"A family. Siblings. Two parents— Wait." He snatched the frame up to take a closer look. "Is that your father?" Laxus cried out, gawking at the photo.
Freed sleepily opened his eyes. "Huh?"
"The guy in this picture. Is he your father?"
"Uh, yeah. Why?"
Laxus set the frame down so hard, it fell over, hiding the picture. He turned away from the desk with a disturbed face. "Nothing. It's … it's nothing." His hand went up, covering his mouth as his brow tightened. "Shit. Not him. Anyone but him."
"Laxus?" Freed woke up more and raised stiffly, slightly pained. He shifted his hips as he felt the lingering ache. "What is it? Do you know my father?"
His eyes hardened. "Yeah, I do."
"How?"
His lips curled in disgust. "You really don't want to know."
"Why not? How could you…? Oh," Freed whispered, and he collapsed back onto the bed in shock. "Oh … oh God. You don't mean…" He could not bring himself to say it.
"Yeah," Laxus muttered, looking disturbed and angry.
"He's one of your … no way! That's a sick joke. My father, a client of yours? That's not even funny." He waited, hoping Laxus would smile and say sorry for joking about something so inappropriate. Instead, the blond looked nervous. "Laxus? You … you're joking, right? There's no way you could know him. My father … he … he isn't…" Still, Laxus was not denying it. His back was to Freed, and his fists were clenched to keep them from shaking. Something surged up in Freed's stomach, and he choked it back down. "You're wrong!" he screamed.
"I hope to God I'm wrong. Please tell me he has a twin brother, lookalike cousin … something!" he shouted desperately.
"N-no. None that look like him. This can't … you…" He whispered in disbelief, "No way. Could you just be wrong? Turn on the light. Maybe it's too dark."
Laxus sighed, flipped the main lights on, and walked back to the fallen frame. Reluctantly, he picked it up and took a close look at the happy family, the man with brown hair, the lady with her green hair up in a prim bun, and the three children. It was obviously taken some years ago, but although Freed looked different in the photo, the man was exactly the same.
"Dammit. It's definitely him."
"No!" Freed cried out, shivering and struggling not to cry. "My father's not like that. He's not! He's so serious all the time. He runs the company, and he's always there for family dinners. He and my mother go to church every Sunday. Hell, when I came out as being gay, he was furious. There's no way he … no … no way. That's just not him. He's not like that." Freed blinked away tears and shook his head, cringing down as acid churned in his stomach. "Not him. Not Father."
"Justine," Laxus muttered. "That's your surname, right? Mister Justine. Dammit, I never pieced it together."
"How could you not?" Freed shouted. "It's not like we have a common last name."
"I don't give a fuck who I beat up," he yelled back. "Half the time, I don't know their names, don't care. They give me cash, I do what they say, and I go. I barely look at their faces. But … Justine. Shit. Of all the goddamn people."
Furiously, Freed yelled, "You fucked my father?"
"I did not fuck him. I don't fuck clients."
"You … did that … did stuff … on my dad?"
Laxus folded his arms and looked at the door. "I shouldn't have said anything. This is not how I wanted this night to end."
"You've seen … it. My father's … you and my dad … oh God, I'm gonna be sick." He covered his mouth as acid bubbled up.
Laxus suddenly grabbed his coat and bolted out the door. Freed looked up in shock at the man's rapid departure.
"Laxus!" He forced his stomach back down. "Wait."
He rose from the bed but realized he was naked. Hurriedly, he wrapped a robe around him, then he ran out of the room and down the hall where Laxus was stomping as fast as he could without blatantly running. Just before he reached the elevator, Freed grabbed him.
"Don't you dare run away! We … we should … talk," he said, panting from the shock and racing after Laxus. His ass hurt too badly to be running. "We need to talk about this."
"What's to talk about?" Laxus growled. "Things are gonna be too weird now, right? You're gonna wanna break up with me anyway, so why stick around and punish myself?"
"No one said anything about breaking up," Freed yelled. Someone else from the dormitory walked by and muttered to himself, "Gaaaaay!" Freed growled at the student, but he dropped his voice to be polite. "We really do need to talk."
"Why? If I talk, you'll find out the truth and break up with me. If I leave now, you can keep thinking your dad is the perfect father you imagined him to be. You can convince yourself that maybe the man I know is a cousin, or a distant relative. Hell, it might be, for all I know."
"If I don't hear the truth directly from you, I'll never be able to trust my father again. I could never bring it up to him, so I'd be left with doubts, maybe even hatred. I don't want that! I want to know the truth. I … I need to know."
Laxus glared down at him and hissed out a whisper. "His name's Llewellyn, right?" He saw Freed's mouth drop. "I was afraid so. You want the truth? Your father hires me to be his Dom. There. You can hate him, curse me, whatever. Do you really want to know more? Can you even look me in the eye when you realize that I've spanked your father into submission, that I've done to him some of the same things I do to you?"
Freed dropped his head and gulped down a surge in his stomach. "It makes the issue more personal, but … but I already knew you do this sort of thing. I knew that, and I thought I could accept it. Maybe I still can, although it's gonna be hell come Christmas."
Laxus had to snort out a laugh. "Yeah, good thing I realized this now. It would have been awkward as hell if I went to your house for the holidays and met your dad there."
"Laxus," Freed whispered, "I don't want you to leave. I want to talk. Then I'll make my decision."
"Decision?" Laxus asked softly.
"If I can handle this, or if I need to kick you out of my life before we … go any further with this."
His ass hurt, and it reminded him of how sweet their time together had been. The pain smoldered and forged into love, making him not want to give up on this man, even if his mind was having a hard time coming to grips with this revelation.
"I need to know what I'm dealing with," Freed stated. "At the very least, I deserve your honesty, and a dorm hallway is not the best location to be discussing this. Please, come back to the room."
Laxus looked again to the elevator door. Every nerve in him said to bolt now before his heart got broken. However, if there was absolutely any hope of staying with Freed and making this relationship work, he wanted to bet on it.
"Fine, we'll talk."
"Thank you," Freed sighed. He turned and walked back to his room, but he realized already that he could not look Laxus in the eyes. Even while begging him to stay, he could not look right at him, and his stomach still felt nauseous.
They went to the room, and Freed locked the door. He slowly sat on his bed, still aching a bit, and Laxus took the computer desk chair. They sat in silence with a party down the hall thumping away music.
"So … my father," Freed said timidly. "Um, how long has he been a … a … a client?"
"I honestly don't know. Over four years."
Freed gulped hard and cringed. That was a lot longer than he ever imagined. "How often?"
"Once a month. It's a fixed date."
"And … what does he make you do?"
"Let me clear up one thing. No one makes me do anything. They list requests, I pick which ones I'm willing to grant. I'm not forced. I am nobody's sex slave."
"Got it, sorry. So, what does he request?"
"Do you really wanna know the details?"
"How about generalizations?" Freed decided, not sure if he really wanted to know graphic depictions of his father's debauchery.
"Restraints, paddling, flogging, he has a thing for wax play."
"Do you … jerk him off?"
"I don't need to."
"What do you mean?"
Laxus folded his arms. "If I tell you, you're green little head is gonna explode."
Freed arched an eyebrow.
Seeing that he still wanted to know, Laxus shrugged. "Your father is a special case. I'm not the means to an end. I'm a setup."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Llewellyn is a masochist. Your mother—what's her name again?"
"Mother? Liberty."
"Right, I knew it was a weird name like yours. I feel like shit calling her your mother, so I'll use her name. Liberty hasn't got a sadistic bone in her body. She was actually the one who contacted me. I have no fucking clue how she heard about me, but trust me, I was shocked as hell to get propositioned by a woman for her husband."
"Mother!" Freed bellowed. "My mother … asked you … to do that for Father?"
"I never asked for details. I honestly don't wanna know the drama bullshit. However, it seems the issue with Llewellyn is one that led to … problems."
"Prob- …" Freed cut off sharply, and his face flinched with a memory. "Those rumors back in high school that Father was having an affair. Us kids never believed it, of course. I mean, it's Father! The guy's too busy for his own family sometimes, let alone having an affair on the side. The rumors never even went anywhere because Mother said she hired a private investigator and found out he was loyal."
"More like he was forced to be loyal after she hired a P.I. to tail him, then struck a deal with him not to hit up fetish clubs if she'd hire a professional to take care of his needs. She was willing to work with him on one condition: Llewellyn's dominant absolutely had to be male. That's where I came in. Llewellyn agreed to the deal, Liberty probably cleaned up any loose ends, no one had to know the truth, their marriage didn't have to crumble."
"So, you go to my house?" Freed asked incredulously.
"I get picked up in a car with blacked-out windows. I get that a lot, actually. I'm taken to an underground garage and led through some halls to a playroom."
"Playroom?" Freed asked sharply.
"Like sex play."
"There's nothing like that in my parents' house," he protested.
"Might not be their house. I honestly don't know. I go there, Llewellyn is waiting, and Liberty is usually in the room."
"Mother … watches?" Freed gawked.
"At first, I assumed she was a voyeur and liked that sort of thing. However, it became apparent that she was only there to make sure Llewellyn obeyed their rules. He is allowed only certain things. He can be restrained pretty much in any way he desires—and he's a creative guy—and he can be touched with inanimate objects. However, Liberty is a harridan at making sure I do not physically touch him. To be honest, it's the best setup out of all of my clients. I go, I beat him, I take the money, I leave. He's left aroused as hell, and that's when Liberty takes over. Llewellyn apparently can't get hard unless he's beaten into submission first. I take off, leave them to do whatever the hell they want, and that's it."
Freed stared down in shock. "They've been doing this for over four years?"
"Llewellyn Justine is one of my oldest and most steady clients."
"I was still in high school. You were in my house—maybe my house—when I was still living at home. I never saw you there."
"Of course not! I normally never meet anyone besides my client and maybe one trusted servant. Llewellyn is unique since his wife is in the room, too. Kids? Fuck no! I don't deal with kids. Had a client once who wanted to have his teenage daughter watch. I called off the deal. If they're underage, I'm outta there. I'm a sadist, not a pedophile."
"Out of curiosity: you said it's a fixed date. What day?"
"Second Tuesday of the month."
"What?" Freed yelled. "They said those were charity balls."
"Huh! I always wondered why she insisted on calling me Charity. I thought it was an inside joke."
"The joke was on us!" Freed shouted. "Lying to their own kids."
"Oh please! Like they could tell you the truth. What are they even supposed to tell you? Are you going to tell them about you, what sort of things you like? You do realize, if by some miracle I'm ever invited to a family dinner, your parents are going to recognize me in a heartbeat. They'll probably guess what we do together. Would you bring it up? Compare kinks with your father? Debate handcuffs to rope, paddles to belts, sounding to e-stim?"
"Oh fuck," Freed groaned, collapsing his head down into his hands.
"The other option is you pretend we're a happy, normal, totally-not-into-BDSM couple, your parents pretend like we're meeting for the first time, we all lie to one another, and your family sweeps the whole thing under the rug."
"That might be for the best," Freed grumbled. "Is there any way you can maybe not have my father as one of your clients?"
"Yeah, I could drop him. I've dropped many clients. I have no reason to do so, though, and no longer seeing Llewellyn after four years would be way too suspicious. It also wouldn't erase the fact that they know me. I wouldn't drop him, anyway."
"Why the hell not?" Freed screamed. "He's my father!"
"He's also one of the best clients I have. He's not a pervert, he has never propositioned me for sex, mostly because he wouldn't dare with his wife in the room, and he pays damn good."
"Laxus," Freed whined.
"You knew I do this," he sharply reminded. "Whether if it's your father, your brother, an uncle, who I hit shouldn't matter. It's not sexually appealing to me. Especially with Llewellyn and Liberty, I know I'm just the warm-up. I'm honestly a bit touched that she spoils him and accommodates him enough to get a professional sadist for him, rather than insisting he not get hit at all, or even worse, divorcing him just because he happens to be a masochist."
Laxus looked aside gruffly. He never, ever, in all the millions of worries he had when it came to him and Freed, thought that maybe Freed knew one of his clients, let alone is own father.
"You beat my father … while … while thinking about how to kill your own father," Freed said softly, and he suddenly screamed again, "Don't you see how fucked up that is to me?"
Laxus just stared at him. He had no clue what he could even say, besides facts. "I hit a lot of people's fathers. They pay me to do it. They call the shots, not me. I agree to what they want, but the thing with being a sadist is you have to stop when they say stop. Otherwise, it's just torture and abuse, and that's illegal. I don't torture. I'll torture the living shit out of my father when the time comes, but these men … I don't torture them. I beat them because they want it. I never do more than what they pay me to do."
"Laxus, this is not helping." Freed buried his face down into his hands as the emotions overflowed and drenched his eyes.
"It's not meant to help. I don't know if I can help you." He put a hand on Freed's shoulder. "I really like you, Freed. I do. But I'm not changing who I am just for you. I hate the sorts of people who change themselves to meet the expectations of others. You knew I did this to rich old men. Your father is in that category. You knew I do this sort of thing, and you said it was okay. If it's not okay, if this isn't going to work, then even if I drop your father as a client, it'll never fully work out between us. You'll always be thinking about your dad, what I do, and hating me for it."
"So is that it?" Freed asked scathingly. "Is this over?" He sniffled and shook his head in disbelief. This was supposed to be a wonderful night. Instead, it was a living nightmare.
Laxus hated seeing the tears gathering on his eyelids. It pained him deep inside, but he knew that giving in was not ever going to make this issue go away. If it was a problem now, it would always be a problem, no matter who his clients were.
"That's your call," Laxus said softly. "I don't hate you for being the son of a man I hit. Do you hate me for being the man who hits your father?"
Freed pulled at his green hair in anguish. "Hell if I know," he whispered. Then he suddenly glared up. "Did you ever jerk my father off?"
"I already told you, no," Laxus said firmly.
"Did he ever … ever … come while you were hitting him?"
"No. Liberty never lets it get that far."
"Oh God, my mother!" Freed groaned, flopping backward on his bed in surrender. "This is seriously the most fucked up thing I have ever learned about my family, and that's saying something. Literally fucked up!"
Laxus shouted at him, "I do not fuck clients."
"No, you just prepare him for my mother."
"That's right, I do. I hit him for about half an hour once a month, that way he and Liberty—"
"I don't want to know!" Freed screamed.
Laxus leaned back in his chair and scratched his head. Once, early on in this sort of career, his client was sloppy, the wife came home, and she went ballistic. Laxus simply left. He walked out with the client still handcuffed to the bed, plug in his ass, and let the woman rage however she wanted. He was not paid to be a bodyguard to these men. If they were sloppy, he was out of there.
Part of him nagged that this was the same sort of thing. He should walk out, get away from this place, escape before things turned explosive, and never return.
Then he looked at Freed, at the green hair splayed across the bed, love bites on his neck and chest, and those thin limbs taut with muscles shining pale through the robe that had split slightly apart. He heard soft snuffles, and Laxus' heart ached to know that this was so painful to the man he cared for so much, the first man he had ever made love to.
Instead of the instinct to leave a volatile situation, he instead stood up and walked over to the bed. He gently sat down, trying not to disturb the mattress too much. He looked uncertain what to do. His hand raised, but he stared at it, as if that hand had a mind of its own. The hand moved, the fingers rested on Freed's head, and still not fully sure what he was doing, Laxus began to pet Freed's head consolingly.
He had never done something like this before. Even as a child, when he found his mother crying about his father, he never tried to comfort her, because he had no clue how to help. Now, he felt like his body was acting on its own.
"Think of it this way," he said softly. "Your mother loves your father very much. Even I can tell that. She's spoiling him. She loves him enough to put up with the man he is. She's not trying to change him. She goes so far to help him find happiness in their relationship that she brings in professional help. It must be hard on her, knowing she can't do it all herself, knowing she could never fully please him on her own, and accepting that she can't give him what he needs. She admits her weakness, and she's willing to do anything—anything at all—to make him happy. I'm sure she realizes the consequences; I make sure all of my clients do. If it's discovered that they hire a stripper for BDSM play, their social and political life is over." He stroked down the soft hair. "Don't make this harder on your parents. Don't think badly of them. Your mother loves your father very much, and he is lucky as hell to have a woman like her. Frankly, I feel a bit honored that, instead of helping some fat bastard get his kicks behind his wife's back, for the Justines I'm helping a husband and wife stay together and keep being happy in their marriage. That makes them unique, and it makes me damn respectful of your mother. She's a hell of a lady. So don't hate your father for being a masochist, and don't hate your mother for trying to give him what he needs."
"I'll … try," he whispered. "Have you ever kissed my father?"
"No. I don't kiss clients, plus your mother has a no-physical-touching clause in her contract with me. That includes with my lips."
"Have you ever … y'know … stayed around and watched them?"
Laxus sneered. "Oh God no! The most I've seen is them hugging one another."
"So it's … it's really nothing more than a contract to you, huh?"
Laxus gave a shrug. "They're a client. I have many. I have no emotional attachment to any of my clients. Some I like more than others simply because they're polite and not perverted. Your parents are probably my second favorite."
Freed peeked out the side of his eyes and managed to smirk. "Only second?"
Laxus sighed silently in relief to see him smile again. "I've got one client who sends me home with not only the money we agree upon, but a bottle of Blue Label and a voucher for a free dinner at the restaurant his company owns, and I can drink all the booze I want on the ride to his place and the ride back home. He's my favorite. Free food and all-you-can-drink booze: total win! Your parents aren't half bad, though. They pick me up in a limo with an acupressure specialist riding along in the back who does this massage thing on my wrist that makes me totally not sick on the whole ride there. It's a pretty sweet deal."
"Maybe I should learn acupressure for you," Freed teased. "I want to spoil my boyfriend."
Laxus' mouth dropped, shocked to hear him so accepting. "You … you still want to be boyfriends?"
Freed's face looked agonized. "I really don't want to lose you."
Impulsively, Laxus leaned down over Freed and kissed him hard. Lithe hands threaded up Laxus' muscular neck and tickled the back of his blond hair, sending shivers through his spine and straight down to his groin.
"You look like your mother, you know," he said between kisses.
"Are you saying I look feminine?" Freed teased, leaning his chin up as Laxus nibbled down his throat.
"Nope, just the hair and your eyes. She's a nice looking lady, and you've got all the best parts of her. But this?" He stroked where the robe had split open and showed off a penis quickly rising to attention. "This part here? This is all unique. I may have seen lots of cocks, but none as amazing as this. You should be proud of this pecker and let me admire it."
Freed cried out as Laxus stroked down hard.
"And your voice, too. Sexy as fuck. I love hearing all the noises I can get you to make."
"Nnnngh … so good," Freed whimpered, fisting up his sheets already as Laxus stroked him. "Ahhhhn!"
"You're getting wet from just this much. Horny bastard. You can't get enough, can you?" he teased, and Laxus lightly bit Freed's nipple. A sharp cry shuddered out as Freed's spine arched up. "Damn, you're already making me hard again, you sexy little slut."
"Laxus?" Freed moaned, writhing as those broad hands caressed him in all the ways he loved. "Maybe … can we … again?"
"Heh! Do you want another go?"
"I want to know you're mine."
"Only yours," Laxus whispered, kissing Freed as he grew harder. "Only you."
When Loke came in, the lights were out except for a lamp left on by his bed so he could see. It was the same arrangement he usually had with Freed, a desk lamp left on so he was not blind and fumbling in the dark. In the shadows, he saw that massive blond with Freed curled up on his chest. Loke was not gay, but even he thought it was a sweet scene.
Grinning mischievously, he pulled out his cellphone. He wanted to show Freed how cute he was. He was sure Freed would love a picture to commemorate this night, too. He tilted the lamp just a little to light up the two, made sure the camera flash was off so he would not startle them, and snapped a picture.
"I want a copy," came a deep murmur.
Loke jolted, shocked Laxus was awake, but then he grinned. "I'll send it to your phone in the morning. Is he okay?"
"Amazing," Laxus muttered, and immediately he was back to sleep.
"Lucky guy," Loke said with a smirk, and he silently went to his bed.
Next Chapter: The Justines
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Catch the Thunder