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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
- 50
- 51
- 52
Audio drama: http://chirb.it/fpc8C9
I apologize for the hiatus. I PUBLISHED A NOVEL! It's a medieval romance, but I promise, it's safe for your parents to read. It's romantic, not graphic. Even my father loved the story, and he's a picky reader.
It's available in paperback at Barnes & Noble and worldwide distribution on Amazon, as well as ebook on Kindle and NOOK. You can find places to purchase it on my website:
https://robynannmckenzie.wordpress.com/novels/
Thanks for waiting.
Chapter 51
Return Home
Evergreen cut into her eggs. "So, a week ago, you and Laxus had a … domestic dispute?"
Freed smiled sadly as he tried to eat. "Yeah, something like that. That's why I'm staying here."
It did not feel like a week had passed. It felt like years! Every day passed so slowly. When he first arrived at the Justine mansion, everyone in his family was gone. His father was away on business, Evergreen was living on campus at the university, Bickslow was still in rehab, and his mother now had a place of her own in Paris. He had the massive mansion to himself, which was probably best: no nosy prying. The staff did not question the young master's sudden return home. He could brood without disturbances.
The previous night, Evergreen arrived and fell asleep almost immediately with hardly a hello. Although Freed was upset that his solitude was over, he at least had time to straighten out his emotions. He was ready for a little socializing at the breakfast table.
"I guess it happens in every relationship," she said lightly, trying to make it sound like this was not something for her brother to worry about too much. "Everyone has a fight now and then. Even Elfman and I have had our little spats. At least you have a place to come home to."
"Yeah." He smiled to himself, glad his family would always be there for him. "So, what are you doing here? What about college?"
"Classes let out for the summer weeks ago. I was in Cancun, but that got to be so boring. All those parties, they're the same over and over. I didn't feel like staying in the dorm, and I missed Nana's cooking." She eagerly dug into the food.
Freed chuckled. "You need to learn how to cook for yourself someday."
"Ugh! Whatever!"
The butler stepped in just then. "Young master, miss, I should inform you that the master has arrived. He shall be joining you for breakfast."
"Father's home already?" asked Freed. "I wonder if the negotiation was a bust."
"We'll know if he comes in fuming and drinking coffee with bourbon, or reading the news and sipping tea."
Freed laughed. They really had figured out their parents' idiosyncrasies over the years.
A few minutes later, the dining room doors opened, and Llewellyn marched in with a tablet in his hand.
"Good morning, son," he said formally.
"Morning, Father. Was the trip well?"
He hummed, then looked up at a maid. "Darjeeling and milk," he ordered.
Evergreen shielded her mouth and whispered over to Freed, "He got the deal."
Llewellyn took a seat at the head of the long table. "Bas said you've been home for a week," he noted, not taking his eyes off the report he was reading.
"Yes. I hope it's not an inconvenience."
"Nonsense. Children should come home as frequently as life allows it."
A plate was set down in front of Llewellyn with a cup of tea. He continued to read some news on his tablet, and Freed tried to put a better effort into eating his breakfast.
"Any reason for your return?" Llewellyn asked without any emotion or hint of interest, a facade too forced to be natural.
Hesitantly, Freed replied, "I felt it to be necessary." It was obvious: he was here, Laxus was not, so something happened between them.
A long silence fell between them.
Evergreen sighed and muttered to herself, "Well, this isn't awkward!"
They ate with a tense atmosphere. Finally, plates were taken away, and all three just had their drinks: a mimosa for Evergreen, a latte for Freed, and tea for Llewellyn.
Finally, Freed looked up. "Father, can we speak in private?"
He glanced over, saw the weariness in his son's face, and set his tablet down. "Of course. My office."
"Thank you," he said with a formal bow.
The two left, and Evergreen sipped her drink.
"Seriously! Men!"
Freed followed his father's firm steps. The man always had an air about him, dignity and importance that could be intimidating even to his own son. Freed had been expected all his life to emulate this demeanor. So when they entered the office and shut the door behind them, he did not take a seat. He stood firmly even when his father sat behind his desk.
"I assume you wish to speak about Laxus," Llewellyn said, cutting straight to the issue.
Freed had been debating about asking his father for guidance. He knew no one else with whom he could speak, no one else in this lifestyle, and no one who knew Laxus in that sort of way. Still, knowing his father's connection to Laxus made this far harder.
He weighed his words carefully. "How do you convince a sadist that they're not abusive?"
Llewellyn looked stunned. "Are you serious?" he cried out, which caught Freed by surprise. "Laxus thinks that?"
"Yeah," he whispered, and his head dropped in sadness.
Llewellyn hated to see his child in such anguish. He tried to come up with the perfect answer, just like how he had always had answers for his son when he was a boy asking questions far beyond his tender years.
Not this time, though.
"I'm honestly not sure," he admitted. "If that's something they're worried about, if it's dom-drop or just lack of confidence, you have to keep convincing them that you want it."
"I did!" he shouted. "I … I tried." He finally sank into a chair and covered his face as the anguish that had been building over that whole week tormented him. "I told him. I kept telling him. He said … he doesn't want it anymore, that he's just being abusive. The problem is … there's history," he admitted, really not wanting to get into that issue. "He has a right to be worried, but … but it's not abuse," he insisted. "I told him over and over, but … Dammit!" he yelled, slamming his fists against the chair's arms. He took a deep breath, battling against the emotions.
Llewellyn gave him a moment to calm down. Once he saw Freed's shoulders loosen up, he spoke again. "Did something spark this?"
Freed nodded, struggling to speak through the frustration tensing up his throat. "Someone … noticed my bruises," he answered quietly, as if this was a secret he had to hide despite them being alone. "They … questioned the health of the relationship."
Llewellyn said it bluntly. "They accused him of being abusive."
"She…" He wanted to defend that safe house matron. He knew it was unfair to hate her. "The accusation was not made directly toward him," he clarified stiffly. "I happened to tell him about it, and now he's second-guessing himself."
"And you left him?" Llewellyn cried out. "For a whole week?"
"I couldn't even talk to him," Freed protested. "He kept pushing me away—"
"So you keep pushing back!" he scolded with a loud shout.
Freed blinked at the fervency. "Father," he muttered.
Llewellyn gave a sigh. This really was a troublesome issue for the two of them to discuss. "This isn't even about BDSM relationships. This is about being in a relationship. If your partner is unsure, if you're having problems, you stick together."
Freed dropped his head. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not … I know!" he admitted with a distant gaze as he thought about all the grief he went through to understand this issue. "But it's what has to be done, or you end up like me: divorced, alone, wishing things had been different."
Llewellyn shook his head. If someone had given him the same advice when he was Freed's age, maybe he could have done things differently to save his marriage. He looked over at his son, hunched over with pink eyelids as he struggled to hold back tears. From the bottom of his heart, Llewellyn truly wished these two lovers could fix things, if only to make Freed happy again and save him from that same loneliness.
"You have to go back to him. Communicate! Talk to him, and stay with him as he talks. Even if it grieves you, even if it angers you, hear him out, and be honest as well. If he's seriously unsure of himself, you need to make sure that he knows, at the very least, that he still has you. Even if he has to give up BDSM for whatever past is grievous to him, even if you can't give up BDSM because it's part of who you are, you can still have each other. Even if not as lovers, at least as two people who understand one another on an intimate level."
Freed clenched at his trouser legs. Not as lovers? The idea terrified him. He had told Laxus that he needed BDSM, but over that week, Freed came to realize that this was not really true. He liked it, but BDSM was not a requirement. It made things wilder, it took him away from the stress of life, it balanced him on an emotional level, but if it came down to choosing between sadomasochistic play and Laxus, there was not even a tiny bit of doubt what he would pick.
Still, that did not stop Laxus from fearing himself.
"He's convinced he's abusive," he muttered, feeling pained in his heart as he thought about how much self-loathing had been in Laxus' face that day. Freed cringed, wishing he could just wave his hand, cast a magic spell, and take away all that emotional agony. Instead, he felt so helpless. "There was nothing I could do. I was bringing him pain. If I had stayed, he would have kept hurting."
"Do you honestly think it didn't hurt him, hearing you leave, being abandoned when he was in pain?"
Freed dropped his head and clenched his fists tighter on the trouser fabric. "I … I didn't know what else I could do. If I stayed, he'd hurt. If I left, he'd hurt."
"It's better to hurt knowing someone is there than to hurt alone. Freed, this could be dom-drop. It happens. Have you ever had sub-drop?"
Freed felt awkward, but he nodded quietly.
"It's a similar thing. Chemicals in the brain get screwed up, and next thing you know you're trapped in depression. A dominant can begin to hate themselves for being hurtful to the one they love. You've got to stay with him through this."
"But … I can't get into details, but … I see his point. There's … history. He was abused. He … dammit, I don't want to say this to you, of all people." Freed knew he had to word this just right, to explain it properly while still being respectful of Laxus' privacy. "When Laxus worked on clients, he imagined they were his father. He … he wants to … get even with his father. Not in a legal way," he said softly, a bit of sadness and fear slipping into his voice. "His father abused him … severely … and he took that aggression out on clients while plotting how to hurt his father."
Llewellyn stiffened up, realizing Freed was talking about him. Him and dozens like him! He never questioned why Laxus did what he used to do, what he thought about while doing it. He had always pretended that Laxus got as much sensual pleasure performing those acts as he had taken in receiving them.
"So he's worried that this … us … if it's the same. Is he still using BDSM as an outlet for paternal hatred? If he had never been abused, would he even be into BDSM? I can't answer that for him. Then he asked, what would I do if he couldn't do BDSM. I almost answered that we could find an alternative, like what you and Mother did. He … God … he's never yelled that loud at me before. I actually thought for a moment that he might hit me in anger."
Llewellyn's brow tensed to hear that.
"I thought he … that maybe, he'd be okay with the idea, since it's what he did in the past, but … but I guess … that's precisely why he's so opposed to it. I can understand that."
"What would you do?" Llewellyn asked, curious but deeply concerned.
Freed lowered his eyes. "I've been asking myself that all week. We probably could have talked, could have come to some agreement, but … but I felt I couldn't even be around him. He pushed me away, said I never should have fallen for him, I should have run off as soon as I knew about his past, about his father. He said he ne- … never…" The tears he had been holding back finally dripped down Freed's eyes. "… never should have fallen for me. He feels he's toxic, as he put it. It … hurt … deeply to hear that. Because I've known for a while, he thinks it. I can see it, more and more lately. He thinks he's not good enough. He feels I deserve someone better, richer, someone without a questionable past. It's just like you said. I may feel he has nothing to apologize about, but Laxus … he doesn't feel that way at all. His past—what he's done, and the reasons for it—tortures him." Freed dropped his head into his hands as he struggled to regain control before the silent tears turned into outright sobs. "I honestly had no clue what more I could do. It's not about convincing him that I love him. It's not even an issue of convincing him that he's not abusive. He has to convince himself that he's doing this out of love, not misplaced aggression. How can I possibly convince him of something that personal?"
"By making him love you for just yourself, and reminding him of all the love you two have beyond the bedroom. How you do that, I don't know. You need to speak with him, communicate, figure out his needs, and determine your own. It sounds like his biggest fear is that if he gives up BDSM, he'll lose you … and he just lost you."
"No!" Freed cried out, sitting straight up with a horrified face. "I … I gave him space, time to think…"
"You walked out the door when he was weak and vulnerable."
Freed's mouth dropped in objection. No! He loved Laxus more than anything. He left to give him time. Still, it had been a whole week, and he had heard nothing from Laxus. What if he was wallowing, starving himself in the dark bedroom, crying into pillows? What if he got raging drunk and was lying comatose on the kitchen floor from alcohol poisoning? What if he ran off, thinking he must have lost everything already?
"Go back to him. Patch it up if you can. You need to be the strong one this time." Llewellyn sighed and walked over to his wooden cabinet. "I think you need a drink."
"It's morning!" Freed protested.
Llewellyn pulled out a crystal decanter of brandy. "That's often the time we most need a drink."
They sat together discussing banal things: the weather, the garden, stocks, sports, politics, all while sipping brandy. Freed's mind stopped whirling in anguish. The world was filled with little troubles, and this was just one of them. He needed to clear it up, as simple as that.
The office door thumped with a knock, and Bas the butler opened the door. "Young master, there's a Mister Dreyar at the door to see you."
Freed jolted up. "He came here?"
Llewellyn smiled at the instant brightness in his eyes. "Do you wish to see him?"
"Yes!" Then he sank back down into the chair. "Maybe," he amended, and confessed, "I'm worried."
Llewellyn shook his head, and in his best fatherly voice, he said, "What have I always told you? 'Show not your weakness by passion, or imprudent words or deeds; by fretfulness or murmuring impatience.' Bas, show him to my office."
"Father!" he cried out as the servant bowed and left.
"I won't be here," he assured, finishing the last of his brandy glass. "That would make things really awkward."
"Yes, it would," he grimaced.
Llewellyn began to walk away, but he placed a hand on Freed's shoulder. "Assure him that you'll stay by him, but only if you think you really can. If he can't do it, and you can't give it up … be honest with yourself and with him."
Freed straightened his back and nodded firmly. "I shall, Father. Thank you."
He gave a curt nod and walked out of the room.
It was five tense minutes before the doors opened and Bas let Laxus enter. Freed melted a little the moment he saw the shine of golden hair. A week apart had only made him love Laxus even more. The scarred face looked calm and slightly contrite.
"Hey, Freed," he muttered awkwardly.
"Hello, Laxus," he whispered, wanting to run up and embrace him, but knowing he couldn't yet. "I—"
"Look—" Laxus said at the same time.
They both paused, but Laxus gave a nod for Freed to go first.
He hesitated to put together what he had planned to say. "I … can live without it. All of it."
Laxus' brow tensed in confusion. "Without?"
"BDSM," he clarified. "I had to really think about it too, but I just realized … I could live without it." His face grimaced in anguish. "But like hell could I live without you! I would rather have you and not have BDSM, than to ever lose you. I can imagine having gentle sex and nothing else, but not having you … I've thought about it from time to time, these nasty little scenarios that pop into my head. What if my parents outright demanded that we break up: that sort of thing. I always came to the conclusion that you were more important than material wealth, and if I had to pick between the family fortune and you … every time, I knew I'd pick you. So this time as well, I thought about it seriously." He looked Laxus straight in the eyes. "Nothing matters more to me than having you by my side. Love is not about sex; it's about being with someone who makes you happy, fighting through daily troubles side by side, and feeling happiness by bringing them joy. It's not about sharing the same bed; it's about sharing the same dreams."
Freed reached forward and clasped Laxus' hand, happy to see he was still wearing the promise ring. That shine of silver gave him hope.
"I am more than willing to give up BDSM, give up my inheritance, give up just about anything to keep you with me. Because your happiness brings me happiness. I want you to share your dreams with me, and I want to share my future with you."
Laxus' mouth dropped, overwhelmed by the love and adoration in those words. He smiled with a slight blush. "It's good to know I didn't totally fuck up and ruined everything."
"You didn't," he assured.
Laxus squeezed Freed's hand while gazing down at him. He realized, it was his turn now. "I called a therapist. I've never been to one. God, what a first session that was! I thought I was gonna scare him away, blurting it all out. Thought I might have ended up arrested too, admitting I wanted to kill my father and I actively chased him across the globe. He canceled all his other appointments that day. We talked … shit, probably six hours. We even went out to dinner together, still talking over tacos. It felt … good … getting it all off my chest. Weird, scary as hell, but good. I set up another appointment, just got finished with it. He told me to come here."
Laxus paused, trying to find the right words.
"I don't know where therapy is gonna lead me, but I know one thing. I want this to work out. Whatever we both gotta do, we'll do it. It's worked up 'til now, and I don't think we need to change it. If we've gotta make changes, we discuss what to change to make it better. One day at a time. That's what the doc said. Stop worryin' about how I may feel in the future; worry about the present. How do I feel right now, at this moment? Let the future come at its own pace, and figure out adjustments along the way. We'll discuss it together, and we'll be honest. We'll compromise if we have to, but only as much as each of us is willing. We'll do whatever the hell it takes, because I don't think either one of us wants this to end."
"No," he cried out, squeezing Laxus' hands.
Laxus smiled to hear that. He traced over Freed's silver promise ring and the etching of a fencing sword that he felt was most appropriate for his gentleman-swordsman who had carved himself into his heart.
"I love you, Freed Justine," he declared, rubbing over the ring. "More than I can say. There's nothing in this world that can convince me to feel otherwise. At the moment … maybe a few things need to change, but I'm okay with bondage in general. I'll see what I can do, but if anything triggers me—"
"You stop it immediately," Freed insisted.
He nodded with a small smile. "Yeah. But don't try to beg for more if I just can't. And if you ever, ever, don't want something, you let me know."
"I've always—"
Laxus put a finger to Freed's lips, silencing him. "Let me know. I need to know. If it's ever unwanted, non-consensual, even just one percent, you fuckin' let me know."
Freed saw the direness in his eyes, and he tipped in head with an understanding smile. "I will."
Laxus nodded sternly at the agreement. "I'll let you know too. If I just can't do it … if I ever find myself doing it for any reason besides the fact that I want to pleasure you fully … I'll stop. I swear, I'll stop right there. If I need to stop, don't try to force me to keep going. If I pull back and stop a scene, it's because I've gotta. I hate the idea of leaving you hanging unfulfilled, but if I've gotta—"
"I understand," he said solemnly.
He then let go of Freed's hands and cupped his face. "I want you to know—and I really had to think back over everything, all the way back to that first night at the Hilton—I never did something to you while thinking about my father. Not once! I really thought through it all, every single time we did anything remotely sexual."
Freed blushed coyly. "We've done a lot of stuff."
"Hell yeah, we have! It was a lot to think through. But I needed to make sure. For myself, I needed to think through it all. I'll be honest, I wasn't sure what I'd do if I realized I ever did something and imagined how to hurt my dad. I'd probably run off, get away from you, terrified I'd hurt you for real one day. So I really thought through all these months, and I realized … not once! Always … always," he stressed, "it's been about wanting you to feel good. Even that first night, you were different from all the other clients because … because I wanted to make you feel good. I wanted to help you, and the whole time was incredible for me too. I wanted to hear more and see more. I never thought about my dad that night. I was just thinking about you." He grabbed Freed's face with both hands. "It's always been about wanting to give you what you need, and it has always been my greatest pleasure to make you happy."
Freed took a bold step forward and hugged him. "I need you, Laxus. Kinks or none, I want to be with you. Even without BDSM, I'd still want you, and no one else. It wouldn't be pleasurable if it wasn't your hands. I also thought about it. I do like BDSM, but I don't think I need it. When we have plain, gentle, regular sex, that's wonderful too. When I top…" He blushed and dipped his head down. "I … really like that. So, no matter what we do, if we have to change things up, if you can't do BDSM, or even if you can't top for whatever reason, it's okay with me. Trust me, I'm not bored with vanilla sex, considering I was a virgin a few months ago," he said with a chuckle.
Laxus laughed as well. They had both been inexperienced until that day in Freed's dorm.
Freed rested his forehead against Laxus' brow. "I've only had you, and I only ever want you. I love you. I love you so much … you said once that love was fucked up because there's not a stronger way to express deeper love. You're right. I love you so much, there aren't words in the English language." Freed's hands reached out to him, and Laxus watched as Freed caressed up his chest, resting a hand over his heart. "So … I guess … like you said to me once. Aishiteru."
Laxus struggled with a smile as he heard that word that evoked a deep love in Japanese, something the English language lacked. "Same here," he choked out. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime à la folie!" I love you madly! "So, ya want me back?"
"Definitely," he sighed.
He chuckled, tilted Freed's head up, and gave him a kiss. Gazing down tenderly, he said what he had told Freed so many times before.
"Of course you do."
Freed smiled, glad to see him return to his dominant presence. "I want to show you, it's not abuse. Not at all! And I want to show you how much I like it."
Laxus took a cautious step back, suddenly looking doubtful. "Freed, I … I don't know if I—"
"Please, hear me out," he requested. "I know we said we don't have to do it, but … I still sometimes want it. But only if it's you," he assured. "I wouldn't want anyone else doing that to me, and I would rather give it up than hurt you. I want to see how far I can push you this time. I need to know your boundaries. Once I do, I'll know what I can ask for and what to avoid. I like BDSM, but I'm not addicted to it. I'm addicted to you! I want to give you pleasure." His hand rubbed up Laxus' arm, feeling the contours of muscles under his shirt. "I love it so much because I know it gives you pleasure. If you don't like it … what point is there? Show me what your boundaries are. Show me your very worst. Let me know what you crave, and I can forget about whatever doesn't bring you pleasure." His hands came to rest on Laxus' shoulders, and he peered up at him with sternness. "Let me show you it's safe. Let me show you it's sane. But only if it's consensual."
Laxus' mouth dropped. There was a little bit of that neediness he loved so much in his little submissive, but there was also passive understanding that they were on fragile groundwork, mixed with determination to guide them both back onto a path that was healthy and constructive. Freed never ceased to amaze him in how many layers there were to him. When he thought he had his hands on a little sex slave, he showed the prim aristocrat. When he thought Freed was about to be a stubborn rich boy, he was bashful and coy. When he thought he had a pure angel, he saw a devilish gleam in his eye.
Right now, there was a little bit of it all in that face, and every single one of those complex layers of Freed Justine all wanted him to explore whatever new limits there needed to be between them.
"Fuck," he whispered with inexpressible joy.
How was he supposed to say no when all he had wanted this whole week was to have Freed take him back with unconditional love? Now, here he was, and he saw it: that trust, that adoration, and a stubborn streak that showed him clearly, there was no way Freed would let him go that easily. He had to trust in Freed now, trust him to guide them both back into a solid relationship, trust him not to go too far, and trust him to back off if Laxus simply needed less.
It was a lot of trust to put into a single person, but he knew Freed was strong enough to handle it.
"All right," he conceded.
Freed let out a held, worried breath, relieved that he had not pushed Laxus into an uncomfortable spot already. They quietly caressed each other's faces, no more words needed as they took this first step toward healing.
Then their grins turned devious. The excitement between them crackled like electricity without having to say a single word. It shined in both of their eyes, turquoise and electric blue. They knew where they needed to go now.
Their playroom!
Next Chapter: "Playroom"
A/N: The quote, "Show not your weakness by passion, or imprudent words or deeds; by fretfulness or murmuring impatience," comes from Reverend Thomas Smyth's "Appendix Containing Standing Notices, Practical Directions, and Hints for the Use of the Members of the Second Presbyterian Church, Charleston, S.C." (what a title!) under the subheading "How to Govern Well a Family."
It's an idea of mine that Llewellyn was raised in a religious family. His father, who founded the company, was the son of a Presbyterian preacher and tended to quote from religious tenets. His mother, although she dutifully attended church with the family, was far from moral. Freed explained in Chapter 14, she murdered Llewellyn's father for the money but committed suicide when the police figured out she did it. Llewellyn began to question his faith after his father's murder, then stopped attending church completely when he realized he was bisexual with a penchant for masochism. Still, he raised Freed with random quotes taken from his father's words of wisdom, which were mostly gleaned from religious texts. Llewellyn doesn't even knows where many of these quotes came from, he just has them memorized because of his father.
I have no clue where I found such an obscure quote, but I liked it and included it. So yes, Llewellyn gave advice from a religious thesis to his son who is about to meet up with his gay dom. Oh, sweet irony! ^_^
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