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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4
Whiskey and Gin
Hesitantly, Laxus followed behind Freed. He had never just hung out with a guy before, and it was a weird concept. He walked behind the green-haired man to the car and sat with stiff movements.
"Relax. I don't bite," Freed laughed, remembering what Laxus had said to him during the lap dance. "You were way more confident earlier."
"Earlier, I was in my own environment. I feel like I'm trapped in your world now."
"My world?"
"A world of going out for drinks with friends, relaxing on a couch, chatting about the weather, maybe going to a game and cheering on your favorite team. The normal world."
"I can't promise I'd cheer at a game. I don't much like sports besides fencing."
"Swords, right? You compete?"
"I've been on TV."
"No kidding!"
"Bob has even played some of my matches on the screens in the club's bar."
"Bob the drag queen bartender? You know him?"
"Just from the club." Freed backed his car out of the driveway and onto the street. "Don't you ever hang out with people from work?"
"I've gone drinking with Gray once or twice, but only because he kept bugging me."
"Gray?"
"Oh shit," Laxus realized in horror. "Forget that name."
Freed thought about it. "Ice Prince?"
"I said forget it!" he snapped. "We're not supposed to let clients know our real names."
"I'm not a client, and I'm not interested in him. I probably won't return to the South Pole Club again, anyway."
Laxus looked worried. "You're not coming back?"
"I was only coming to watch you. Now I know you're not gay. Sort of squashes my fantasies."
"Oh," Laxus mumbled, and he looked away.
Laxus was silent through the rest of the ride, but Freed did not really feel up for conversation, either. His mind still whirled around what he had been told. Besides, if they did all of their talking in the car, they would have nothing left to say while drinking.
He also realized that Laxus did not look well.
"Carsick again?"
"Shut up," the hulking man growled. "Dammit, I forgot my headphones. Don't you have music in this car? I feel less sick when I listen to music."
Freed turned on the radio. "Find what you like."
It was set to a classical station, something Freed preferred while sitting in traffic because it kept him calm. He figured a man like Laxus would like something more upbeat, but to his surprise, Laxus let out a sigh of relief, keeping the radio right where it was.
"You can change the station," Freed offered again.
"Nah, this is good. Do you like classical?"
"Enough to know this is Mozart's Flute Concerto Number 1."
"Good ear. My mother used to tell me that flute music settles the stomach."
Freed was about to ask about his mother, but he figured that if Laxus had an issue with his father, more than likely he should not ask about what happened to his mother. Instead, he sat back and listened to the soaring, gentle tones of the flute filling the car and easing the stomach of his passenger.
They went to a pub Freed knew. Maybe it was a bit classy, but he liked a place that was clean and the drinks were strong. Besides, he was not the sort for sports bars and dance clubs.
"I like this place," Laxus said as he got out of the car.
Freed's eyes lit up. "You've been here?"
"A couple times." He glanced over and saw Freed's gleaming face. "Don't look so damn pleased with yourself, Greenie. I've been to probably every pub in the city at least once."
Freed knew he was right. The city was not that big. There was a good chance Laxus visited many of the same places he liked, and they simply never crossed paths before. They walked in together. This late at night, there were not many patrons, and most of those were already drunk. They found a seat away from the others, and a waiter came up.
"Last call is in twenty minutes, just warning you."
Freed hardly realized it was that late already.
"Then I'll have a triple Blue Label, neat, with a water back," Laxus said. He looked to Freed, nodding for him to order.
Scotch whiskey! That was a heavy drinker's order, but completely the sort of drink Freed figured a man like Laxus would order. Freed felt intimidated and stuttered.
"Order what you normally do," Laxus said in a commanding whisper.
He gulped and nodded. "Sapphire martini, up, two olives to the side in a shot glass."
The waiter nodded and went off.
Laxus smiled wryly. "Refined. I figured you were a martini man. You seem to be the type. You also know what you like. What a man orders says a lot about him. You learn that working the sort of job I do."
"Can you really tell what every man in that room is like just by what he's drinking?" Freed asked with interest.
"Not completely, but I can tell a lot. That pink-haired brat likes flaming drinks. He's still a kid, probably just barely old enough to drink, but he wants to show off. He likes attention, and he likes to horde. Just look at how he buys up Ice Prince's time. Those dragon twins…"
Freed chuckled that Laxus had given them the same nickname he did.
"… order tequila shots to start, but they stick to cheap-ass beer for the rest of the night. They want to get drunk quick, but not get sick. They think they need to keep drinking, but they're pressed for money. The beer also makes them appear manly. They were probably raised in homophobic homes, broke free, met each other, started whatever biker gang they're in to keep their bad-boy reputation while banging one another. They're both too self-conscious with the concept of bottoming, so they both want to seem like they top. That's why their drinks are always identical."
"They're a couple?" Freed asked. He had suspicions.
"I don't need to see what they drink to tell you that. I've heard them in the restroom slamming each other against the walls."
Freed grimaced. "Do you get that a lot?"
"Not really. Not many couples come there. Now Miss Erza, on the other hand, drinks straight up bourbon when alone, but she will only drink strawberry daiquiris if Jellal is around. She's hard on the outside, but sweet on the inside. She really wants to play up that sweet side to her lover. Then there's you. You drink gin martinis or chilled chartreuse. I've never seen you guzzling beer or hitting the hard spirits. You have taste, you know what you like, and you try too hard."
"Try too hard?" Freed repeated, stunned by that assumption.
"You know you're better than the assholes in that club. You're probably well-educated, maybe you even came from a wealthy family. If not, then at least you're into some wealth now. In either case, you've come to define your social status through your drinks. Martinis are the drink of the upper class, and you've taken that a step further by ordering a damn good gin and specifying your taste: olives to the side. Also, you don't drink chartreuse because you particularly like it. You drink it because you think it's refined. You make a face whenever you sip it, but you refuse to mix it. You're afraid to slip into the same level as the pervs in that club, so you try too hard to separate yourself from them by ordering something those Budweiser bums have probably never heard of before."
Freed dropped his head, thinking about this observation. It was true, he ordered chartreuse, not because he liked the potent flavor of the liqueur, but because people often raised their eyebrows and asked about it. He could then brag about the 130 herbs and how only two monks in France know the secret technique for making the drink. It made him sound well-versed in drinking, which somehow equated to refinement. It kept him a step above the sleaze-balls who frequented the gay strip club purely to get off.
Their drinks came just then. Laxus got his scotch whiskey with the side of water. He remained in a casual yet somehow domineering stance, leaned back in the pub's booth, staring with those stormy blue eyes.
"And your choice in drink?" asked Freed.
Laxus raised his glass in salute. "I like it strong, I like it hard, no frills, nothing sweet." He took a sip of the whiskey and let it flow over his tongue.
Freed gulped as lewd thoughts filled his head, but he calmly pointed out, "And yet you ordered the water. I know it cuts the scotch, opening up the flavor of the drink."
Laxus chuckled at his keen observation. "When I find something I like, I want to indulge."
Something he likes…
But Laxus was not gay. He would not like Freed, not that way. He would not want to indulge in him.
Laxus lifted the glass of water. "Now, most drinkers blend a few drops of water into the scotch. Cuts the alcohol burn, lets the flavor break through. I like the burn. I like how it tingles all the way down. However, it'll numb your taste buds if you're not careful, or if you drink a lot, and I like to drink a lot of scotch. So the water…" He took just a small sip. "…it cools off the tongue, washes it all down, before the alcohol can numb it. I get the full effect of the scotch without weakening it, and I can enjoy it for as long as I want."
Freed immediately sipped his martini to hide his blushing. He felt his heart flutter at those deep words, but he forced his eyes down.
"So, Mister Martini Drinker. Tell me how you really are," Laxus ordered, leaning back and swirling the scotch in his hand.
Freed set the martini glass down and stared at it as he spoke. "I suppose my family is well-off," he said guardedly. "I'm currently a university student, but it's assumed I'll take over my father's business. Needless to say, he wasn't all that happy to find out I was gay."
"Only child?"
"A brother and a sister. Bickslow's a perverted idiot, but my father is trying to set him up with the marriage alliance he couldn't get out of me. My sister Evergreen is the real brains in the family. I'm the pretty face my parents like to show off at parties."
"Sounds monotonous."
"Achingly so," Freed groaned. "That might be why I got into fencing. I'm in charge, no one controls my destiny, I fight my own battles, and it lets me gain a victory that has nothing to do with family prestige or money. If I want to be the pretty little princeling prancing around, I can pretend to be that, but if I want to be a demon with a sword, I can be."
Laxus chuckled into his drink. "Now I want to see you fight. I've never seen a fencing match before. Sounds interesting."
"I'll take you to my next match."
Laxus froze with the cup to his lips, and slowly he pulled it back down. "You're assuming a lot, Greenie."
"My only assumption is that you'll eventually call me Freed, not Greenie, and we'll become friends by the end of the night."
"Like I said: a lot!" He took a large gulp, set his tumbler down, and immediately picked up the water to chase it.
"So, you really aren't homosexual?" Freed asked, sounding just a little disappointed.
Laxus gave a shrug. "Not one way or another, I guess. I've spent my whole life pretty much avoiding any sort of relationship beyond work acquaintances."
"Does that make you a virgin?" Freed smirked.
Laxus' eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. "Hey now!"
"Good." Freed said, feeling looser with some more alcohol in him. "I am too, so I don't have to feel totally out of my league while around you."
Laxus coughed out his scotch, spraying the table with alcohol. "You? A virgin? Shit, a guy as good-looking as you should have women all over him."
"I'm rather uncomfortable around women. They're my biggest weakness. I prefer the company of men."
"Does that have something to do with your parents?"
"They were trying to arrange a marriage for me before I even understood the difference between boys and girls. As soon as I turned fifteen, I was paraded around to every eligible débutante in five hundred miles. Each girl was primly schooled to believe that a flighty, flirty attitude was the best way to impress a gentleman. I took up every fencing tournament I could enter just to get out of that hell."
"And that turned you gay?"
Freed chuckled and shook his head. "You don't turn gay. You either are or you aren't. I have never found women to be sexually appealing. More like they're scary, intimidating creatures that I fear will put their hands all over me, and I feel disgusted by the mere thought of it."
"So you don't like women at all?"
"I don't mind women. I have plenty of female friends. I just don't find them sexually appealing."
Laxus cocked his head to the side with an arrogant smile. "So what do you find appealing?"
Freed's brain screamed "YOU!" However, he held that thought back. Laxus was not homosexual, after all. "Someone taller than me. I typically go for light-colored hair, but not always. Strong men, independent … muscular," he admitted, hardly helping to take a look at how Laxus' tight shirt showed off those hulking muscles. "I want a man who can support me, who can … d-dominate me." He bit his lip and turned his head aside as he felt himself blush.
"Dated many men?"
Freed scoffed while rolling his eyes. "I'm not even sure if you'd consider it dating. How about you? You must have women all over you, when you're not entertaining men."
"I tried the whole dating thing in high school. Wasn't all that impressed. Just a pain in the ass. Too much drama, ladies just wanting me to pop their cherries."
"And you didn't?"
"Like I said, it was a pain in the ass. I wasn't interested in that stuff. Didn't want sex, sure as hell didn't need some girl screaming in my ear when my hand serves me just as easily, and without all the PMS bullshit. None of the girls I dated got me hard, anyway, no matter how they tried. People in general don't get me aroused, girls or guys."
"What does?"
"Hell if I know," Laxus grumbled, but Freed thought he saw a bit of a blush to his cheeks. He wondered what could interest a man like this if lap dances and pretty ladies did nothing for him. However, Laxus steered the conversation away from his own love life. "So, did your parents ever managed to get you to try dating a few girls?"
Freed sneered. "Oh hell no! At least Bickslow and Evergreen backed me up when it came to that."
Laxus eyed this long-haired man up and down. "Pretty rich boy, always in control, always expected to be the perfect son to a perfect family. No wonder you want to escape into some fetish-filled fantasy where you have no control, where someone strips you of your pride, where you can face your fear of humiliation without anyone else seeing you that way."
Freed felt his heart sink a little. "Do you see that a lot? Is it a common theme among your … clients?"
Laxus gave a shrug and knocked back the last of his drink. "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't. Every single one of my clients is well-off financially. They have to be to afford me. Bankers, lawyers, doctors, CEOs, maybe a politician or two: people who are always in control, who must maintain their image, who can't let their fake smile, their fake grimace, their fake life, slip up for even one minute. Those are the sorts who desperately need to escape. They need to be humiliated in a setting where they won't lose their job just because they're a whining, mewling, pissing-themselves mess. They need balance. They need escape. They need to hurt. They need to let go of the white-knuckled clench on their reputation and feel normal for one night."
"Normal being…?"
Laxus smiled vilely. "Crying like the baby they are inside, punished for being the bad boys they have to be in the real world, broken and beaten in a world where everyone is afraid to even touch them wrong."
"And you give them that?" Freed asked hesitantly.
"Like I said before: I beat them; I don't fuck them."
Freed stared down into his martini. "I … don't think that's what I want."
"I can tell. I knew from the very start. You're a raging submissive, maybe you'd like a little light bondage and humiliation, but you're not into the hardcore pain I usually dole out."
"No, I … I don't think I'd like that."
"Because you still feel the struggle of independence. Most of those men—not all, but most—have given up, succumbed to their lot in life, their perfectly planned destiny. They studied hard, married well, worked diligently, and never allowed themselves to do something just for themselves. That's why they need something extreme now that they're old and miserable. Nearly all of my clients absolutely hate their wives. I'd almost pity them, except they let themselves be placed into that role, and they're probably doing the same damn thing to their kids. In forty years, it'll be their sons seeking out a sadist to beat the misery out of them. You, on the other hand," Laxus went on, "I can tell you're still fighting that. That puts you a cut above the pompous assholes I beat up."
"Is that why you're here with me?"
He shrugged languorously. "Maybe. You show me that some pretty rich boy can be more than a mindless robot following the orders of his parents and society, marrying whoever they tell you to because that's your social duty, the traditions of your caste, noblesse oblige, generations of prestige riding on what they decide you have to become. You're the sort of man who says 'Fuck it' to all that bullshit. I like that. Besides, you're good company." He looked down at the empty glass. "And I'm out of alcohol."
Freed finished up his martini. "I can take you home. It's late."
"You're paying for this," Laxus pointed out. He rose and headed to the restroom.
Freed watched Laxus' ass as he walked away. "As you wish," he whispered, wanting to be ordered around just a little more.
Freed paid the tab and waited for Laxus. Together, they went back to Freed's car.
"I'll tell you where to take me, but you're not dropping me off at home," Laxus said sternly.
"I understand," said Freed. "I'm sure you think of me as nothing more than some stranger, maybe even a stalker."
"Nah, I've seen stalkers. Gray's got one that follows him everywhere."
"You mean Ice Prince," Freed corrected with a smirk.
"Ah shit," Laxus growled, realizing he messed up again. "Hell, you know his name now, no big deal. Anyway, I'd rather think of you as a fanboy," he chuckled as the car started up. "But I'm glad you understand one thing. I don't know you; you don't know me. Most new clients don't comprehend that. They've built up such an imagination about Thor, that person on the stage, they think they know everything about me. They know jack shit! My clients never even learn my real name. You know just my first name. That's all I'm willing to give out for now. We're not acquainted, not yet. You know a dancer; I know someone who frequents a club where I work, someone I haven't talked to before today."
"Not friends yet, huh?"
Laxus slid a glance over. "Maybe getting there," he said softly. "Make a left, then a right on Strawberry Street. Past the bridge, you'll see a gas station. You can drop me off there. I'll walk the rest of the way."
Freed drove down a road mostly empty, although there were a few cars out, people coming home from bars, night owls up for nocturnal wandering, and a few night-shift workers coming back from a tiring evening of work. Freed realized Laxus was holding his mouth again, so he turned on the radio.
"You don't seem like the classical music type," said Freed.
Laxus mumbled, "Shows how much bullshit you assume based on my appearance."
"Do you like opera? I have a friend, Mira, who sings at the local opera house. She gives me tickets once in a while."
Laxus glared over at him. "That almost sounds like you're offering a date."
Freed chuckled and shook his head. "I don't hit on straight guys. I'm just trying to think of something we can do, something we both like. We both like classical music. It's a start."
"A start to what?" the gruff man grumbled.
"Being friends. Nothing romantic, just friends."
Laxus glared at him for a minute. "You honestly do sound like you're not interested in me anymore."
Freed was amused at how he said that in such a hard way, yet almost with a pouting sound to his words. "Like I said, I won't hit on a guy if I know for sure that he's heterosexual. It's a crappy thing to do and makes people uncomfortable, just as awkward as I feel if a lady tries to hit on me."
"I see," Laxus muttered. "I guess that's good. You respect them."
"If I want people to respect my orientation, I have to respect theirs. Still, and I don't mean to sound rude, but it seems so weird, thinking you're a straight man working at a gay strip club. I guess it makes sense, though. You can dance for them and never have to worry about getting sexually aroused. I'm sure that's something men have a big problem with. It's so easy to tell on guys." He laughed as he realized that maybe female strippers had an advantage in that department.
Laxus was quiet as they drove along the shadowy boulevard. Finally, he muttered, "I guess it's more like I'm not gay, but I'm not straight."
Freed glanced over, surprised by that revelation. "You mentioned that you don't get aroused by people. Asexual?"
Laxus sputtered out a sigh. "Hell if I know. I don't label it. Girls are hot; guys aren't bad. Still, I don't really wanna fuck either one. I guess I'm just not interested in any gender sexually." He mumbled to himself, "Not until now."
Freed slammed on the brakes, and the car behind him honked angrily. He looked over in surprise.
Laxus roared, "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Not until now?" Freed repeated in shock.
"You could have caused an accident."
"What do you mean, not until now?"
"I don't know. Drive already!"
Slowly, Freed started the car moving again. Laxus rubbed out the tension in his forehead.
"Seriously, don't scare me like that. I don't handle transportation well as it is, so I don't need you driving like a crazy person." They were both silent for a while. Then the car came to a stop at a red light. The motion sickness twisting in Laxus' gut eased up while they were halted, and finally he felt like he could talk. "I just meant that you're interesting. That's all. I noticed you in the audience, but I didn't know why you were there. Then you called for me. That takes guts. You're not like people who normally request me. You're an enigma. You're more forward than what I'm used to, and a lot younger than the guys I normally get. You're funny and awkward and pretty good company for drinking. You're into a cool sport like sword fighting, you're not all passive and mewling, and you're a hot dude."
Freed jolted, and he was glad they were stopped at the light. Laxus thought he was hot? He felt his face beaming with an eager smile.
"I don't think I'd actually want to fuck you," Laxus clarified, "but I wouldn't mind doing … other stuff."
"More than drinks?"
Laxus folded his arms and looked out the window to hide his blush. "Yeah, more than drinks."
"Stuff as in…?"
"Whatever you're wanting," he shouted irritably. "Ya wanna act submissive to me, I can do that. You want tied up, smacked around, wanna be turned into a piece of furniture or an animal, it's all good."
"But you wouldn't get any satisfaction from it," Freed pointed out.
Laxus gave a petulant shrug. "I might. You're about my age, you're hot, you're not some saggy meatbag with warts and wrinkles. It could be … fun."
Freed watched the red light and thought about this offer. "Do I have to pay?"
"Only for the hotel. I ain't got the money to cover costs like that."
"I don't want to be a client."
Laxus snapped, "Dammit, I'm offering this on my own accord. However, I can still pick what I do and don't do."
"Fair enough. Do you want to head back to that igloo place?"
"The cheap motel? I hate that shit-hole."
"Then someplace nicer than that. A real hotel? The Hilton is close by."
"Can you afford it?"
"I won my last fencing tourney. I can afford it."
"If we're gonna do this, I need another drink."
"I'll get a room with a wet bar."
"Now you're talkin'," Laxus chuckled. However, the laugh was quieted when the light turned green and Freed began to drive. Laxus held his hand up to his mouth again.
"You really have an issue with motion sickness, huh?"
"I don't like to talk about it."
"Has to do with your father then, right?"
Laxus glared over to the driver's seat. "For bringing that up, I want to beat the shit out of you right now."
"I might like that," Freed said with a smirk. "I was just telling Bob today…"
"Bob the drag queen?"
"Yep, him. I told him, I think I'm a masochist. I'm not sure if I like being beaten, but I like the idea of being restrained, maybe teased without fulfillment."
Laxus blinked his eyes in shock. "You like…? Fuck!" He looked away and covered his gaping mouth.
"What?" Freed asked in worry. "Are you sick again? I can pull over."
"No. That's what the old men like. Fuck!"
"Do you mean, no fulfillment? Is that bad?"
"No, it makes it easier on me, but … but I was thinking … of maybe fulfilling you."
Freed slammed on the brakes again, and this time the driver behind him shrieked "Asshole!"
Laxus also screamed at him. "I'm serious, drive properly or I'm jumping out of this moving death-box."
"Fulfilling me?"
"Do you repeat everything I say?" Laxus snapped. "Drive, and the next time you slam on the brakes, I'm jumping out of this car and walking home."
Freed made sure to drive as safely and smoothly as possible as he continued to the hotel.
"Look, if you want just a cock-tease, I can do that. I'm good at it. Damn good. But you came pretty quickly earlier."
"I'm really sorry…"
"Shut up!" he snapped, and Freed jolted to obey. "I just thought … well, I can work on you with that. I was distracted earlier tonight, what with Jellal threatening to fire me, so I wasn't paying attention to your needs. If we're in a hotel, I can train your body to hold back until I allow you to come. It'll help you with the premature ejaculation issue. Just an offer, though."
"Can you … can you tease me all night?" he asked nervously.
"I'm off work tomorrow. Do you want to set a time limit?"
"Sunrise," Freed said instantly. "I want to be able to hold off until the sun rises."
"That's one hell of a cock-tease! I've never done it that long. Those old men can usually only last an hour. Four hours … you'll be hurting. Seriously hurting."
Freed smiled slyly. "Good."
Laxus chortled and shook his head. "You really are a masochist."
"I figured I probably was one. Are you really a sadist, or is that just your job?"
"Sometimes after I've beaten up an old man, I go home and jerk off to videos of BDSM torture."
"I'd like to see you do that while you work on me."
"Jerk off, you mean? Hell, if you can last all four hours, I'll spray it on your face."
Freed's foot began to move over to the brake pedal again.
Laxus screamed at him, "Slam on the fucking brakes again and I'm gone!"
He forced himself to keep driving, although his hands clenched the wheel as he imagined this thunder god's cock covering his face in cum.
"I seriously am a masochist," Freed mumbled.
Next Chapter: "Supplies and Surprise"
A/N: And you're seriously in for a world of fun, Freed.
Freed's drink (Sapphire martini, up, two olives to the side in a shot glass) is how I order martinis. I like gin, I love olives, but I don't like how the olives affect the taste of the martini.
I know some pompous asshole will argue with me about drinking scotch. It always happens. You know what? Up yours! Scotch is to be enjoyed, and if you enjoy it straight up, on the rocks, or with a water back, however you like it, that's how you drink it. According to one dear Scotsman I know, "The theory that straight up scotch is the only proper way to drink it is pure and utter bullocks. It's an idea invented by Americans who don't know how we Scots actually drink. I order with a water back. I enjoy it that way. So that's my proper way to drink. Scotch is to be enjoyed, plain and simple."
On a side note, Chartreuse is seriously one of the most interesting liqueurs in the world. Only two monks in France know how to make it, and it's GREEN, so perfect for Freed. However, the taste is not for everyone.
I do not promote the Hilton Hotels, Bombay Sapphire, Johnnie Walker Blue Label, Carthusian monks, or drinking and driving. (Seriously, Freed should NOT be behind the wheel!)
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