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Catch the Thunder	By : Rhov Category: +. to F > Fairy Tail Views: 17789 -:- 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
- 41
- 42
- 43
Chapter 42

A New Storm Rolls In

Freed stared at the computer screen, typing a cover letter for one of their company's clients. It had to be worded just right. Although the letter would probably be skimmed over in a few seconds, Freed spent many minutes making sure it was concise but contained all necessary information.

He flipped over to another screen that showed a spreadsheet of the last quarter's earnings, making sure the numbers were correct. This was definitely not the time to switch around numbers.

Satisfied, he clicked send…

And his screen went blank. The other screen with the spreadsheet flashed and went black as well.

"Dammit!" he screamed, not meaning to cuss, but it shocked him. It seemed Laxus' bad habit of using foul language was rubbing off on him. Still, all that work! Lost!

Another junior manager named Wakaba walked over. "Something wrong?"

"I just lost the cover letter I was working on. It's due in half an hour!"

Wakaba looked at the two screens. "Call up Warren in tech support. If you can't get it back up in ten minutes, come over to my desk and log in there. The email system should have saved a backup, although you might have to rewrite anything you did in the last five minutes."

"Thank you. Sorry for the outburst."

Wakaba laughed and patted his shoulder. "It's happened to all of us, Freed."

He smiled, glad the team was calling him Freed again and not Justine anymore.

Just then, a woman with bobbed hair and thick glasses came forward. "Mister Justine?"

Freed bristled. Laki was his father's secretary. If she was here, his father wanted something. There was no way his father could have known about him cussing just a moment ago, so hopefully he was not in trouble.

"The CEO wishes to see you in his office." She stood there, waiting, knowing he had no choice but to come immediately.

Wakaba patted Freed's shoulder again. "Go check on that. I'll call tech support and see if they can fix your computer."

"Thank you," Freed nodded.

He left his desk to follow Laki up the elevator to the top floor, where his father oversaw this massive corporation in his posh office. As he stepped in, he saw his father was not alone. The head manager, Macao Conbolt, was with him as well.

"Sir, the young Mister Justine is here," Laki announced with an elite primness to her voice.

"Thank you; that is all," Llewellyn said, and she slipped away, shutting the office door behind her. "Freed, please come forward."

Freed privately hated meeting his father at work. Here, he was not Father. He was Chief Executive Officer of the Justine Corporation, a group Llewellyn's father started, then he took over, and Freed was destined to one day continue the tradition, making the company grow larger and stronger. Within these walls they could not be father and son, not fully. He was an employee with potential. That was all.

Freed stepped up to the desk, and when Llewellyn waved to the smaller chairs in front of him, he took a seat. Macao also sat, and Freed saw a pinch to his brow.

"Freed," Llewellyn began with a deep, stern voice. "I'm a bit concerned about your performance."

Freed's spine immediately stiffened. "Am I not meeting performance standards?"

"You are, but only barely. You're … distracted, and it's hurting your results."

"I was feeling a little under the weather last week," Freed admitted, recalling the sub-drop, "but I assure you, I'm better now."

"I was aware of your illness, and it's admirable that you continued to work despite your health. I'm not talking about just that. It seems that since you started to work here, you've only just barely met minimum performance standards. You get your work done on time, but often just barely. You've never really given yourself a buffer in case something unforeseen happens. We would prefer if your work did not come skating in just before the deadline."

Freed stiffened his chin. "I will work faster, sir."

"Not just faster. The quality of your work is commendable. I want that same quality to continue, not slacken in order to increase delivery time." Llewellyn sighed, folded his hands on his desk, and leaned forward, showing this was more personal now. "Freed," he said softly, "if you were a normal employee, your work would be enough to get you by without a single complaint. I don't wish to put more burden on you, but the fact is that you're not a normal employee. You are my son, and we're aiming to have you in a lead managerial position as quickly as possible. That means that while you're a junior manager, you must exceed all standards. Otherwise, it's obvious nepotism. I will not stoop to that. I made it into this position by working by my father's side when we were still running out of his house. I didn't just work as hard as him. I worked harder. There's not a single person who questioned the fact that I succeeded my father. You must be the same. I wish with all my heart to give this company over to you, but I must know you will not let the blood and sweat of two generations of Justines flounder in laziness."

Freed gulped, feeling the immensity of his responsibilities.

"Don't push deadlines again. By the way, your computer is perfectly fine, and your email was sent without trouble. I set up the fake crash to show you precisely what I meant. That cover letter is due in half an hour, and you were just now about to send it. If your computer really had crashed, do you honestly think you could have rewritten that letter in thirty minutes?"

"Not at the same quality, sir," Freed admitted, torn between relief that his hard work had not been lost, but also anger that his father scared him in such a cruel way.

"The letter could have been finished early this morning. Your perfectionism gets in the way of your efficiency. Try to find a balance between the two. Continue to make me proud."

Freed nodded sternly. "I will do my hardest, Father."

"I look forward to seeing an improvement. Good job up until now. Just work a little faster."

"I will, sir."

"Dismissed."

Freed rose, bowed slightly, and left the office. As he stepped out, before the door shut all the way, he heard Macao's voice.

"His work is without flaw, Mister Justine. Aren't you pushing him too hard?"

"I told you, Macao. As my son, he must prove he deserves the position. Would you recommend someone with his performance record for a managerial position?"

The door shut, so Freed did not hear Macao's reply to the question, but Freed already knew what sorts of standards his father demanded. Especially as his son, proving himself worthy was almost more important than the actual work he was doing as a mere junior manager.

When he got back to his desk, the computer was up and working perfectly fine. Freed sat and looked at the dual monitors. Sure enough, his email sent ten minutes ago, and the spreadsheet was still on his screen. It had been a test, a lesson. He was too slow. If he wanted to continue in a fast-pace corporate world, he had to figure out a way to do his work quicker.

Freed worked furiously the rest of the morning. He ate some vending machine food for lunch while remaining at his desk. As two o'clock rolled around, Macao come over to his desk.

"We want you to work faster, not make yourself sick from fatigue," he warned quietly to not disturb the other employees.

"I assure you, this much is fine," Freed said, and his fingers never stopped typing.

"You've not taken your fifteen minute break."

"I did not need one, sir."

"Freed—"

"Mister Freed Justine?"

Both looked up at the janitor, Max, nervously twisting his broom in hand.

"Sorry for disturbing you, sir," the janitor said deferentially. "The front desk's phones are down so they sent me. There's a visitor come to see you."

"Visitor?" asked Freed. He had never had a visitor to the office and wondered if it was Evergreen. No, she would simply text him, and his mother knew better than to disturb him at work. Bickslow was still in rehab. Who could it be?

Max stepped a little closer, reeking of cleansers. "You're not in trouble with the Mafia, are you?" he asked softly.

Freed jolted. "What? No! Why would you ask?"

Max gave a wide shrug. "He's got the tailored mafia suit and everything. The guy looks like trouble. When there's trouble, I'm the one who has to clean it up, so I don't want trouble."

"What … what sort of trouble?" Freed muttered, feeling a little nervous now. Was this someone his father knew? Was his family actually involved in shady dealings? Was it a person there to blackmail the Justines? Or worse, could it have something to do with Laxus and his past?

Max shrugged again. "I'd stay on the other side of the security gate, if I were you. That's all."

"Go see to it," Macao told him. "While you're at it, take your fifteen. This company actually can get in trouble for employees not taking breaks, so consider it an order. Fifteen minutes, no working."

"If you say so, sir," Freed sighed, making sure all of his work was saved first.

He headed down the elevator to the ground floor lobby. When he stepped out, he heard the repeating commercial-like introduction talking about Justine Corporation, some woman lauding their expansions and listing their awards. Maybe it was impressive to visitors, but he bet the people who worked in the lobby got sick of hearing how great their company was.

The visitor's check-in was near the front doors, with security guarding the rest of the building. They had to pass through one of two metal detectors, and only an employee badge or special permission from someone in the company got a person access to the rest of the building.

Beyond the security entrance, Freed saw a man in a suit with his back to him, staring out the glass doors, the light silhouetting his hulky body. Freed's face burst into a smile right away.

"Laxus!"

As the blond turned around, Freed saw he was indeed wearing a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. No wonder Max feared he was with the Mafia. Such a massive man with a scar on his face in a stiff suit like that, it was a miracle security let him even deliver a message to Freed.

Freed went past the security check and up to him. He wanted to give him a hug and take his hand, yet the title JUSTINE CORPORATION and the company logo etched into the glass doors reinforced just where he was and his position.

Laxus had a subdued smile pinched with sadness. "Sorry for coming without any warning. I wasn't sure if I should call you at work."

"You can always text me," Freed assured. He eyed the suit again. Although it looked nice, it was incredibly rare to see Laxus wearing anything other than muscle shirts and leather pants. "Is anything the matter?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Laxus muttered. He looked around at the cavernous lobby and up to chandeliers giving the building an old-fashion feel, something hearkening to an older generation. "Something came up, and … and I'll have to be away for a few days."

Freed's heart nearly stopped. "Your dad?" he blurted out.

"No! No, not him." Laxus looked aside with awkwardness. "This … I seriously never thought it'd happen. Ever!"

Freed felt cringing dread creeping through his veins. "Laxus?"

He glanced around the elegant lobby again, realizing how utterly out of place he was. "One of my former clients—"

Freed's throat clenched as he spoke of that past.

"—named me as an heir."

Time stopped, and Freed blinked. "Whuh?" Of all the dreads that surged in that split second, this one caught him by surprise.

Laxus let out a scoffing laugh and shook his head. "Yeah, exactly. What the hell was that old man thinking?"

"Y-you're an … an heir? To a fortune?" Freed asked in disbelief.

"Not quite like that. I don't know the word for it. I inherited … something … I don't even know what it is yet."

Freed stared straight ahead. "You're a beneficiary."

"Yeah, that's it. I swear, if I'm inheriting that bastard's dildo collection, I'm gonna desecrate his fucking grave."

Freed jolted. "Laxus!" he whispered sharply.

He sneered and looked away, having forgotten to watch his mouth. "Anyway, I gotta go to … whatever it's called. Big meeting thing where all these people get whatever the old bastard left them. Fuck, I'm gonna have to see his family. An' they'll ask how the hell did he know me. I can't really use the electrician story."

"Do you want me to go with you?" he asked quietly.

"No!" Laxus snapped quietly. "Freed, you might know these people! If that damn will mentions how he knows me, you'd be fucked. If it's just me, I can handle it, but these are rich sons-of-bitches, and I don't want you near them."

Freed was not sure whether to feel honored that Laxus was watching out for him, or sad that he was being left at home.

"Look, I'm sorry," Laxus muttered. "If it was anything else, I'd be begging for you to come with me so you can tell me which fork to use, but I don't want to put you at risk. This is something I've gotta do alone, because I don't know how it's gonna turn out."

Freed nodded in understanding. "Just be safe."

"I will," he whispered, smiling at how Freed worried over him. Laxus began to reach forward, but the elevator dinged, reminding him that they were still in the open. "Can we go somewhere?"

Freed glanced around at the office lobby. "I'm on break, but I can't leave work."

"Just somewhere," he said, edging on desperation. "Some place where I can kiss you goodbye."

Freed melted a little. "Restroom?"

They both walked over to the sign for the men's room. Freed walked in and quickly checked all of the stalls. It was completely empty. He nodded to Laxus, and they took the last stall.

"We can kiss here if we're quiet."

Laxus looked down sadly at him. "You know I want to do much more than kiss you." His fingers stroked through Freed's hair. "So much more!"

Freed gulped dryly. His arms wrapped around Laxus' waist and pulled him in closer. "Maybe?"

"No," he scolded, although he smirked at seeing such a needy face. "You'd get in so much trouble."

"I don't care," Freed moaned, pulling him closer until their hips pressed together.

"You're the CEO's son!"

A devious gleam lit up those turquoise eyes. "Exactly! It's not like I'd get fired."

Llewellyn played a hard game, but Freed knew the truth. If he ever did screw up badly, Llewellyn would bend over backwards to save him from disgrace. Freed was his heir, and Llewellyn was determined to keep the company within the family. He demanded a lot because he knew Freed could deliver, but the truth was that Freed would never actually be fired, not unless he did something truly disastrous to the company.

Laxus let his imagination run wild. God, he wanted to! Still, he felt the pressure of what this place was. The Justine family name was all over this building. He and Llewellyn had issues in the past. He felt like he was in enemy territory.

"Please," Freed whispered, already trying to frot up into Laxus. "Before you go. I need it. After the day I've been having … I need it! Please."

Oh fucking hell! How was he supposed to say no when Freed begged like that?

Laxus suddenly slammed Freed to the wall, kissing him viciously and clawing at his ass. He thrust up hard against him, rocking his hips over the black trousers. Freed moaned at the pleasure, but Laxus slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shit, Freed, remember where you are!"

His body still tingled though, because he knew precisely where he was. His father's company!

When Freed's eyes flicked up to him, Laxus saw more than lust. He saw rebelliousness and defiance. That was when he realized what this was to Freed. It was similar to the blow job in the parking garage. This was more than just a taboo of making out at work. This was making a claim on his boyfriend right under his father's nose.

"You want it this badly?" Laxus asked in amusement.

Those eyes still glared in what was definitely no longer an angel. No, he was a little demon now, dark and dangerous. Freed's hand reached out and suddenly grabbed Laxus by the tie.

"Here. Now," he demanded.

Laxus chuckled slyly. "As you command … Mister Justine."

Freed felt a shiver through him at the name. When coworkers called him that, it was in honor of his heritage as the son of the CEO and destined future leader of the company. When Laxus said it, it was in mockery to all that bullshit.

Laxus' hands roamed up his shirt, feeling the taut muscles hidden under so much propriety. "This is your place, you're the boss, so you can order me around this time."

He thought Freed would whimper and act embarrassed. He had not anticipated the aristocratic dominance that seemed to fit Freed scarily well in this location.

"In that case," Freed grinned fiendishly, and Laxus briefly wondered if he had just unleashed a beast of hell. Freed suddenly yanked Laxus' tie down, forcing him to his knees.

"What the—?"

Freed smirked, and it took no words to understand his command.

This little bitch!

Laxus rubbed Freed through the suit pants. "Ya want it that badly, huh?"

Freed flinched at the pleasure, already hardening up. Laxus kissed along the zipper line and breathed hot air into the wool fabric. Freed tensed and gulped down a moan.

"Ya on a break?" he asked as he lowered the zipper and reached in.

"Fifteen minutes," Freed hissed as Laxus stroked him through his underwear. He was now thankful to Macao for demanding that break.

Laxus eased the aroused cock out of the underwear and through the opening in the slacks. "Gotta be quick then. Don't hold back." Without any pretense, he began to bob on Freed's cock, gliding his mouth back and forth, fast and steady.

Freed hissed, and his fingers crumpled Laxus' tie. "Don't make a mess. I have to wear this suit all day."

Laxus glanced up, his mouth full, and said around the cock, "As you wish, Mister Justine."

Freed inhaled sharply, thrilled to hear Laxus call him that.

His fist was still wrapped around Laxus' tie, pulling him in closer, sometimes tugging to urge him on. His other hand alternated between rubbing through Laxus' hair and reaching up to cover his own mouth when it felt too good.

His father was in this building! Twenty floors up, sitting in his office behind his mahogany desk in his leather chair, clueless as to what his son was doing. He always had to obey his father when he was here. He had to meet outrageous expectations while also leading massive projects thrown at him in hopes that he could prove his leadership abilities as quickly as possible. He faced a sharp duality, expected to take on leadership roles, yet always under the thumb of his father.

Except for now.

Now, he was defying his father. He was defying them all. Macao, Wakabi, even Laki. He would do what none of them dared. He knew he could get away with it, because even if he got caught, this time—this time—his father was under his thumb. If they got caught, his father would scramble to cover it up. His father would bow to his whims. When it came to him and Laxus, he was truly free from his family's legacy.

"Laxus," he hissed in warning.

"If I can't make a mess, you can't make a noise," Laxus insisted.

Freed nodded with tight lips to hold back.

Laxus did not let up. He reached a hand forward and gave light tugs to Freed's balls through the fabric, rolling them, cupping them, urging him on.

"Shit," he gasped, toes curling up within his wingtip shoes.

Laxus pulled back. "Quiet!"

"Seriously, don't stop!" Freed warned, sweating, face aflame, and struggling to stay quiet.

Laxus slid back on, tasting dripping pre-cum and feeling Freed's whole body coiling. His breathing was beginning to struggle erratically, and his hips thrust on their own. Laxus sucked harder and stroked the base, occasionally skimming his balls.

"N-now!"

Laxus was ready for it. He felt the grip on his tie tighten. He was yanked in closer right as Freed thrust his hips and slammed the other hand over his mouth again to mute a cry.

He was claiming his lover! Claiming Laxus, here in the company owned by his father! Claiming him right under his father's nose!

And damn did that affect him!

Laxus felt the liquid pouring out and filling his mouth. He did not want anything to drip, not a single stain to get onto Freed's clothes, so he gulped it down and used a hand to wipe drool from his chin so it would not get onto the wool pants. He stayed there, on his knees, looking up at Freed and burning that erotic face into his memory.

Slowly, the hold on his tie grew weaker. Freed collapsed back against the wall, flushed and spent. Laxus sat on his heels, grabbed some toilet paper, and wiped Freed clean. Then he gently tucked him back away, zipped up the slacks, and straightened both of their clothes.

"Better?" he asked, standing and admiring the flush on Freed's cheeks.

Freed was still in a daze and looked up. "I … I can … just give me a moment. I'll … do you."

"You owe me nothing." Laxus slicked his hair back where Freed had ruffled through it. "I should get going."

Freed jolted, and his panting froze. "Wait! I can still—"

Laxus touched his face tenderly. "We only had fifteen minutes, and we talked too long. Time's up."

"I … I can call upstairs, extend my break. Macao even said—"

"Freed." Laxus merely shook his head. "I wanted to remember your taste. This is enough."

"But … but you're still…" He glanced down as he realized Laxus was flaccid.

"I took care of myself while sucking you off," he explained. "Jerking off into toilet paper in the boy's bathroom! Feels like I'm a fucking teenager again."

"You were jerking yourself off?" Freed whispered in surprise. He had been so lost in pleasure, he had not realized that Laxus was doing anything to himself.

"Yeah, figured we were pressed on time, plus my balls were burning. I just needed you," he said, tracing along Freed's throat. "Needed to taste you, to let you know I'm coming back soon and to wait for me."

"I'd always wait," he swore longingly, putting his fingers over Laxus' hand and leaning in to the touch.

Laxus smiled at the blissful expression and kissed Freed's forehead. "Luckily it won't be long, one or two nights tops. We'll go out somewhere nice with whatever I inherit."

Laxus began to turn, but Freed suddenly grabbed his tie again, stopping him from reaching the stall door. Freed's head was lowered in a petulant frown.

"… this again," he muttered.

"What?"

"I … I wanna … do this again."

Laxus smoothed down Freed's hair with a tender smile. "Work hard, get yourself an office, and one day I'll fuck you over the desk."

Freed's cheeks went bright red, but then he looked up with a gleam in his eyes. "Who said you'd be the one doing the fucking here?"

Laxus' mouth dropped in astonishment. Holy shit, Freed really was a little demon in the workplace! "If that's how you want it … Mister Justine."

Freed bit his lip at the name. He seriously did have a weakness for Laxus calling him that.

"While I'm gone, dream about that. Dream about hiding me under your desk to suck you off while making business deals and shit. Dream about being the boss over me, having your way with me, right here in this building. Dream of that!"

Freed gulped, knowing he really would keep thinking about that fantasy, not only in bed but while working at his desk.

Laxus chuckled, kissed his cheek, then looked wistfully into his eyes for a moment before leaning in again and giving Freed a lingering kiss on his lips.

"I'm saying my goodbye here, because we can't out there," he whispered, kissing him again. "Be good."

Freed cupped Laxus' cheek and replied, "Same to you."

He suddenly pulled on Laxus' tie again—the blond began to wonder if Freed had a fetish for this—and kissed him back with a bit of aggressiveness. Laxus was amused by this different, professional side to Freed. He had to admit, it was really hot!

"Thank you," Freed whispered with a smile that showed him he meant thanks for the sensual farewell present.

Laxus snorted a laugh. "Anytime!"

They were about to kiss again when someone entered the restroom and went straight to a stall. Laxus held a finger up to his lips and used his other hand to show that Freed should wait here. Then he silently mouthed I love you. Laxus kissed him again quietly before finally opening the door.

He stepped out first and lingered in the lobby. No one looked at him oddly for disappearing for so long. A minute later, Freed stepped out, looking just as refined and professional as when he first passed through the security checkpoint.

"Good luck with the inheritance," he said with comportment.

"Good luck with your own," Laxus replied, glancing up and around at the elegant lobby.

Freed stuck out his hand, and the two parted with a simple handshake. "Until then."

That was the only goodbye they could give here. "Right," he nodded, and Laxus turned toward the exit.

As he walked out the glass doors, his face showed nothing, but in his mouth his tongue swirled, still tasting the tang of Freed's cum.

Next Chapter: "Hear Your Voice"
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