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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
- 71
- 72
- 73
Chapter 72
Italian Tour

Laxus had never flown first class before, and he figured he would never know the feeling. Not really.
"Did you take your pills?" asked Freed.
"Just did."
"And?"
He was already tired. Last night, everything with that party, the intense high and the sexual release … it drained him. He did not want to wake up that morning. He slept on the taxi ride to the airport. He nearly fell asleep in the security line, his eyes drooping and Freed nudging him from time to time. Now, he barely even needed those pills.
"Hand me a pillow."
Freed caught the attention of a flight attendant, and a pillow was brought. Laxus leaned back in the plush chair, and before the plane even began to taxi, he was out cold.
Freed was also sleepy, but he loved to fly. He watched out the window as the airplane taxied onto the runway, and he grinned like a child as the engines roared into life.
"Oh, Laxus! We're taking off," said Freed.
As the plane picked up speed, bumping down the runway, Laxus briefly woke up with a moan. "Why are we moving?" he asked in a sleepy whine. Right then, the plane gained lift and the bumping stopped. Laxus made another moan of annoyance, grumbled, "Wake me up when we're there," and fell right back to sleep.
Freed sighed, finding his huge boyfriend to be adorable. The sleeping pills were to make sure he did not get sick. Freed had been uncertain if they would be enough for an eight-hour flight, but with next to no sleep and one intense BDSM scene, it was no wonder Laxus crashed.
He just hoped he would be okay. As nice as the party had been, a scene that intense could have consequences. So far, that consequence in himself was a deep need to have Laxus there with him. It was a good thing they would be together for this vacation, because Freed was fairly certain he would have ended up with sub-drop depression if he had to be away from Laxus for even an eight-hour workday.
As the plane reached cruising altitude, feeling sleepy himself, Freed laid his head on Laxus' shoulder and took a little nap.
He woke up at the sound of the flight attendant's cart rattling down the aisle. She smiled apologetically as he yawned.
"Sorry for disturbing you, sir. Would you like a drink? Cocktail, wine, soda?"
He blinked out his sleepiness, but suddenly his brain felt like it really had rested. "You know, wine sounds good," he decided. "When is lunch?"
"It'll be served soon, sir. Would you both like lunch?"
Freed looked over at Laxus, who was sleeping like a gigantic baby. "Let's let him sleep." He smiled apologetically. "He gets motion sick. Better for him to not eat."
"Totally understandable, sir," she said pleasantly. Laxus was not the first motion-sick-drugged-asleep person she had seen. "I'll be out with a menu."
She poured him a glass of wine and brought a menu. Freed took a sip, and to his delight the wine was actually quite good. While the flight attendant continued with her long walk down the aisle, offering drinks and snacks to the rest of the passengers, another attendant delivered Freed's food. He heard a heavy breath from Laxus as the meal was passed over.
"You're missing out on first class, Laxus," he said shaking his head with a soft chuckle.
The captain had just finished a message that they were approaching Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport, with local time and weather, when Laxus woke up, and instantly he was sick. His hand flew to his mouth as his face went pale green.
"Are we still on the plane?" he moaned nauseously.
"Obviously," Freed said, looking worried.
Laxus gulped down sickness that tried to shoot up into his mouth. "I thought this stuff was supposed to knock you out for eight hours."
"Well, you're a big guy. Maybe it only works for seven." He checked his watch. "And a half."
"What?" Laxus asked, looking barely aware of his surroundings as he suffered to keep his stomach down.
"We'll be in Rome in half an hour."
"Fuck," Laxus groaned.
"Watch your language, we're in first class," Freed chided.
Laxus sneered. The last thing he wanted to do was watch out what he said around a bunch of fancy suits who surely used fuck in their daily lives.
"Here, give me your wrist, I'll massage it."
"Thanks," he mumbled. One arm flopped over to Freed, while the other pressed against his mouth, determined not to vomit.
Between the flute music blasting through his headphones and Freed massaging a pressure point on his wrist, somehow Laxus fought off the need to throw up. When the plane came in for a landing, bumping down the runway with the screech of tires, he definitely tasted acid in his mouth, and when the plane came to a stop at the terminal, Laxus was the first one out of his seat, racing out before the flight attendants had even fully secured the door. He ran out of the boarding zone and into the terminal as if fleeing from a monster.
Freed gradually joined him, and they headed to the luggage carousel to find their bags. Freed began to count all the suitcases.
"Is that all our luggage?"
"Yeah, I think so." Like hell did Laxus know how much they had, even though he had been the one to carry it all down from the condo. "That's a lot of luggage," he muttered.
"Well, we'll be here for a long time," Freed said, as if it was logical to pack so many suitcases.
It was like Freed had packed half his closet, whereas Laxus was good with two pairs of trousers and a few shirts. Plus there were those fancy tailored suits, which for some reason had a suitcase all of their own, so the shoes could remain in the boxes.
Freed began to look around at the signs, all of them in Italian. "Now to find where the taxis are," he muttered, regretting that he had not thought to reserve a town car to pick them up.
Laxus came to a dead stop. "Why?" he bellowed. "Can't we just walk there?"
Freed stopped walking and looked back at him. "No! You do realize, we're not in Rome yet."
"Why the fuck not?" They just flew eight hours, and they weren't even in Rome?
"Because," Freed said in tried patience, too exhausted to deal with this, so his voice came out sharp and snappish, "there … is … no … international airport … inside … Rome. We're thirty kilometers away, it's night out there—"
"Why the fuck is it night?" Laxus cried out, just now realizing how dark it was out the airport windows. It felt like he just woke up and should be eating breakfast, yet here the stars were out.
Freed internally groaned, not wanting Laxus to throw a tantrum about travel here in an airport. "Because, there's such a thing as time zones." Did he seriously have to explain this?
Laxus heard the quiet irritation in Freed's voice, so he bit back his protests with a hissed "Fuck" and nothing else.
Freed saw Laxus' tantrum calming down. Sure, he would hate this, but there was no other option. With that, he continued to walk toward the exit, and Laxus trudged on behind him.
"Just put up with it for a little bit more, okay? Rome is a walking town."
"Good," Laxus snapped, stepping out into the night air. "Maybe we should move there. Never have to take a bus or car or taxi again."
Freed patted his shoulder. "You big baby," he teased lightly, but just then a taxi pulled forward. A man with a dark mustache hurried out of the car and opened the door for them.
"Buonasera, signori." Good evening, sirs.
"Grazie," Freed thanked, and he and Laxus climbed inside while the taxi driver got to work putting their luggage in the trunk. Freed took Laxus' wrist, already massaging the motion sickness pressure point. "Put your headphones on. We'll be there soon."
Laxus listened to the music again—Italian composers; he figured that was appropriate—and when the taxi lurched forward with a puttering of its engine, he tried hard to ignore the scenery speeding outside his window as they got their first views of Italy.
Freed, on the other hand, looked out the window with excitement as they left Fiumicino and drove inland toward Rome. They drove past iconic locations: Circus Maximus, Marcello Theater, ancient ruins right next to modern fashion stores.
"Ooh! Laxus, look at that church."
Beside him, Laxus was green in the face and had his fist to his mouth. "Yeah, nice."
"Oooooh, look! I believe that's … the Temple of Apollo?"
The taxi driver called back. "Sì, quelli sono i Templi di Apollo Sosiano e di Bellona."
"Grazie," Freed thanked. "Do you see it, Laxus?"
He tried to look over, but the passing scenery made his face turn more green. "You … urp … enjoy it."
Freed sighed in sympathy and patted his arm. "Sorry."
"Nuh … no, you … you look." He gulped his stomach back down as the taxi hit a pothole and moaned pathetically, "Tell me when we're there."
Freed let him be as he continued to gaze in awe at the cityscape. They continued on through busy streets, passed Campidoglio and the Altar of the Fatherland, lavish Renaissance churches like Chiesa del Gesù, and Baroque palaces like Palazzo Altieri. All of it made Freed giddy, while Laxus desperately kept his eyes slammed shut to ignore the sharp turns along meandering streets.
Finally, the taxi pulled up to a luxury hotel overlooking a sprawling plaza. Laxus eagerly got out, catching his breath and trying to soothe his stomach. Freed thanked the driver in what little Italian he knew, while Laxus looked around in astonishment. There was a square chained off from street traffic, with a statue of an elephant carrying a tall pillar on its back, an ancient Catholic church, so old that it looked simple on the outside rather than garishly opulent, and in front of him a large, pale building six stories tall with MINERVA on the side. He could already hear faint opera music inside, the delicate power of a soprano singing an aria.
He knew they would be staying at what Freed had simply called a nice hotel, but this felt like they were in a historic part of the city, not the modern Ritz or Four Seasons Laxus had imagined that Freed would prefer.
"Freed, where the hell are we?" he asked in astonishment.
"Italy, dear," he said with a sassy smirk.
"Fuck you." Sheesh, this sassy boyfriend of his! Laxus had to roll his eyes. "Is this our hotel?" He looked at the statue again, then back to the grandiose entrance. "Looks like a museum."
"Mm, close. It's a 17th century mansion." He chuckled smugly and put a finger to his lips in playfulness. "I may have splurged a little."
Laxus shot over a glare. "When you consider something to be a splurge, it's probably a fucking room Leonardo da Vinci slept in."
"No, not him—it was built a century later—but uh … well … Picasso did. And many famous writers." He whispered aside, "And a Pope."
Laxus gawked at him and cried out, "Fuckin' Picasso stayed here?"
Freed laughed awkwardly. "Uh … watch your language."
Once again, Laxus cussed more under his breath. Freed bit his lip. He probably should have warned Laxus about the hotel, but he wanted it to be a surprise. He at least was glad that it gave Laxus such a shock.
A porter came forward, wearing a long-tailed tuxedo and top hat. Their bags were carried in, and Laxus readied himself. After all, it was a hotel. They always tried to be fancier than they really were, so maybe it would not be all that bad.
Then he stepped inside, and his brain completely fried out.
They entered an opulent room with Renaissance décor, vast arched doorways, and mahogany cabinets housing ancient Roman artifacts. Above, the entire ceiling was a massive stained glass structure, the entire length lit up, green and white along the edges, vaulting upward in deep blue like a perpetual evening, filling the lobby with a soft brilliance of crystal-refracted light. As if that was not amazing enough, tucked away in an alcove was the goddess Minerva herself, carved in pristine white marble and gazing upon every person in the past four hundred years who had walking through those doors.
"Freed," Laxus whispered, leaning down into his ear and pointing ahead. "That's a marble statue."
Freed held back his amusement. "You'll see a lot of them."
"Fuck," Laxus whispered, but he felt that cursing now was a sacrilege, like Minerva herself would strike him down for profaning her hotel.
The desk Freed approached to check in had a crystal vase of calla lilies, and on the wall behind the concierge was a mural of the inside of a massive domed rotunda. Laxus struggled not to gawk around, but he already felt his heart racing, terrified to touch anything or step wrong. After getting the keys, Freed had to tug Laxus' sleeve to get him to walk. They went to their suite, and Laxus stopped sharply as soon as he stepped inside.
In flawless English, the porter pointed out a bottle of wine and gourmet chocolates, compliments of the hotel, and offered to have their suits pressed, which Freed agreed was direly needed after being in a suitcase since yesterday. He took care of things while Laxus' feet were slow to move, bringing him deeper into the huge suite, again terrified to touch anything. The art on the wall looked authentic, not some store-bought replica like in the motels he was used to. The balcony overlooked Piazza della Minerva, with the Pulcin della Minerva obelisk lit up in the night, riding atop that carved elephant.
Laxus could only shake his head. Fucking ridiculous!
When the porter left, Laxus finally collapsed on the couch. It was too much. Too much!
"Freed," he said, bringing over his attention. "Never again."
Freed jolted, worried if he truly overstepped some boundary.
"This is insane!" Laxus cried out, gazing around the room in mild horror. "How much does this even cost?"
Freed bit his lip. That was the one question he had hoped Laxus would not ask! "You … don't want to know," he muttered. Then he tried to smile provocatively, hoping to take his mind off things. "Do you want to check out the bedroom?"
"I'm scared," Laxus admitted, truly sounding near panic. "I'm too fuckin' scared to move."
Freed cringed. "Then I recommend you don't check out the bedroom yet," he muttered with a tiny, awkward laugh.
"Why not?" Laxus screamed, jolting Freed back.
He gave a sheepish, apologetic smile that Laxus knew meant that if this was too fancy, the bedroom would give him a stroke. Laxus sank his head between his knees, feeling dizzy just being there.
Freed's heart and hopes began to sink as he heard Laxus breathing hard through a mild panic attack. He turned away to hide the disappointment on his face. He had hoped to truly spoil Laxus, not just treat him in a way he felt he deserved, but utterly shower him in all the splendor he could afford. Obviously, he went too far.
Just as Freed began to lament that this was a bad idea, he heard a soft laugh, slowly growing louder, and he looked back around, seeing Laxus' shoulders shaking in laughter. Freed was worried if maybe his boyfriend actually was suffering from a mental breakdown.
"Uh, Laxus?"
He pulled his head back up from between his knees and gazed at Freed with confusion but humor. "Look how far I've come … from renting hourly rates at the Pole Palace Motel."
Freed was confused for a moment, but a memory flashed into his mind: their first night together, the confusion between them, Laxus taking him to some cheap motel with a flickering neon sign.
"I remember that." Freed joined in with the laughs. "That place was shit."
"It was!" Laxus guffawed.
It had been a suspiciously well-bleached room, down a hallway of moaning eroticism, sex for money, lust for one night. Laxus had laid out his rates and limits, only to have Freed clarify that he did not want to be another BDSM client, but wanted something more substantial: friendship, compassion, perhaps one day romance, or at least to know Thor's real name.
Now here they were, a year later, celebrating their anniversary in Rome.
They both broke into peals of laughter until Laxus collapsed his head back on the couch, his face flushed. Freed sat next to him, leaned in, and Laxus wrapped him up into his arms with greedy need mixed with adoration. If it had not been for Freed, he would still be giving lap dances and working as a dom-for-hire.
"From a shitty motel used by strippers and hookers, to a fuckin' five-star hotel in Rome." Laxus ran his hand through his hair. Suddenly, he shoved Freed off his chest and stood up. "I gotta get out," he declared urgently. "I know we just got here, we're tired, but … I gotta get out! Fuck … I need to convince myself I'm in Italy before I can convince myself I about to sleep in a bed Picasso used."
He was still shaking deep inside, and he definitely did not want to panic all night. Freed obviously had hoped to have a romantic first evening in Italy, but as it was, Laxus could barely even look around the room without his nerves trembling. He hated feeling like this, so he needed to calm down. A walk and fresh air sounded good, and this way he could get used to the culture before smothering himself in the finest opulence Italy had to offer.
Freed was eager to accommodate him, and a walk sounded romantic. "We can stretch our legs, find a place to eat. It's rather late, I'm not sure if the hotel's restaurant is still open, and it might be better to eat at some café first."
"Café, yeah," he said quickly. Something normal. He looked around and shook his head again. "I seriously need to build up to this."
Freed stood up and took Laxus' hand, lifting it to give the promise ring a kiss, and then squeezed his fingers, silently letting him know this was perfectly okay, he would obey anything Laxus wanted. "Let's go."
As Freed began to walk, Laxus yanked him back slightly, panic again in his eyes. "Make sure I don't hit any marble statues!"
Freed chuckled and protectively wrapped his arms around Laxus' bulging, muscular arms. "I'll keep you safe."
With one last "fuck," Laxus left the room.
Arm-in-arm, they left the hotel and stepped back out into the gentle, late summer night. Just then, they saw a sleek car pull up, and a gentleman stepped out in a fine suit with a lady in satin wearing a pearl necklace. Now they looked like the sort of clients this hotel appealed to! Freed pulled Laxus forward, and for a moment, it looked like they were heading toward a chauffeur standing in front of a town car.
"No taxis!" Laxus insisted. Seriously, the last thing he needed was more sickness to augment his panic.
"No, no, no, just walking," Freed assured, pulling him past the chauffeur, who was waiting patiently for his rider.
They crossed the street and slowly strolled through the plaza, getting to see the elephant statue up close. Freed seemed to be aiming for a destination.
"Where are you going?"
"This way, you'll see," he said, knowing one landmark that was nearby and which would definitely be recognizable, even by a man who admitted he paid very little attention in school.
"Well, I'll follow your lead," Laxus said, amused to defer to him.
They strolled around, looking at Rome by night. It was romantic, and their bodily aches soothed away with a slow walk linked arm in arm. Laxus felt more at ease as Freed guided him.
"Y'know, these are some awesome buildings," Laxus said, having to admire the stonework. "They look old."
Freed had to laugh as such naïveté. "They are old."
"Hell yeah," Laxus muttered. "Damn," he whispered, impressed at the artistry that went into every single brick.
There were still many people walking around, and the flow of the Italian language was like every person sang their own melody. They passed stores Laxus had seen back home, yet here the clothes were housed in buildings that had been around longer than the city of Magnolia had been in existence. They smelled pizza wafting out of a tiny eatery tucked away in an alley. Someone strummed a guitar, and the song was familiar, like perhaps Laxus had heard it in a movie.
They headed toward a large, rounded building that looked even older than all the other buildings so far, and soon entered another plaza. Laxus paused sharply. In front of him was an ancient Roman temple with large, granite, Corinthian columns. His mouth dropped, and not believing what he was seeing, he took a few large steps away from Freed, trying to grasp the grandeur of the whole thing. If the other buildings were merely old, this one was truly deserving the title of ancient.
"Hey, I know this place," he shouted out in realization. "I've seen it in movies and shit."
Freed beamed proudly. "The Pantheon! Built around 125 AD, the oldest standing building still in regular use. Long ago, it was a Roman temple, then became a church, and today rather functions as a tourist trap, although they still hold Sunday Mass and weddings here."
"I don't need the Wikipedia page on this, Freed," Laxus muttered. He walked back up to the building, up to one of the columns, and put his hand on the cold granite.
Freed tilted his head, seeing a depth to Laxus' eyes that he did not normally have. "What's running through your head?"
His voice was soft, like an awed whisper inside a cathedral. "How many people have been here and seen this? How many hands have touched these pillars?" he said, running his hand up the stones. "Dudes in togas walked here. Roman centurions marched by. Medieval monks prayed here. Renaissance artists sketched it. Hell, Mussolini might have stood on these steps."
"Not just him," Freed said. "Hitler laid a wreath on the Tomb of Kings while he was in Rome visiting Mussolini."
Laxus removed his hand and stepped back, gazing up at the building. "It's a mind-fuck. Makes you realize what a short time we're here, and what we leave behind."
Freed wrapped his arm around Laxus. "We're not stone, though. We're flesh, we feel, and we love. A building, a statue, even a mountain: all things disappear with enough time. What's important is here and now. Buildings don't feel. We do! A building doesn't change the world. Our actions do! Isn't love and joy better things to let the world experience, rather than gazing upon some stones piled on top of one another?"
Laxus' blue eyes softened. "Yeah, love's a pretty good legacy to leave behind."
Freed was glad to see that moment of existential crisis fade. "We're here now, and we leave impressions behind that shape the world. Those men in togas, centurions, and artists, they only left behind impressions in the mind, but an act of kindness can still felt now, to this day. A loaf of bread given to a poor person, who lived through the night because of that act of kindness, grew up, had children, and we're descended from that poor person who lived because of one act of kindness. Much like the people who built the Pantheon for the betterment of their community but whose names have been forgotten in time, our acts of kindness and charity ripple through the ages, leaving deep impressions long after our name is forgotten. In a way, that makes us as powerful as a two-thousand-year-old building."
Laxus was quiet, letting Freed's words sink in. Acts of kindness and charity…
What am I leaving behind?
A group laughing caught Freed's attention, and glancing over at the loud Italians joking around, he saw they were sipping wine at a café that overlooked the Pantheon.
"Hungry?" asked Freed.
"Famished! I didn't eat on the plane."
The smell of garlic and savory meat attracted them over to Gruppo di Rienzo, with tables set right out on the bricks of Piazza della Rotonda. Romantic music wafted out, and along the terrace people were out for a late dinner with a perfect view of the ancient temple.
"Oh, this looks good," Freed said, impressed already with the nice linen on the tables and the gentle music.
Laxus glanced it over. "Well, it's a nice café," he decided. With mostly tourists in shorts sitting around, it had a casual vibe, although he was certain that, being this close to one of the oldest buildings in the world, it had to be expensive. Still, Laxus already felt bad for dragging Freed out of that opulent hotel room. Remembering that, he quickly said, "If they bring food out on golden plates, I'm outta here!"
Freed rolled his eyes. "Not all of Italy is like that."
He supposed that Laxus' first not-motion-sick view of Italy being a luxury hotel must have left a skewed impression. He took Laxus' hand and tugged him along. Inside the restaurant was also elegant without being overbearing. A sharp-dressed waiter rushed forward.
"Un tavolo per due?" the waiter asked.
"Ah, yes," Freed said, and he began to scramble for his phone. He had an app that translated for him, but it took a while to pull it up. "A seat … on the … terrace … um…" He flipped through the apps, hoping to stall for time.
"It's okay," the waiter said with a lilting Italian accent. "We speak English here."
"Oh, thank goodness," Freed sighed in relief.
They were brought to a candlelit table outside with an amazing view of the Pantheon right in front of them. The waiter handed over a wine list and menus.
"Vino? A wine?"
"Yes, uh…" He looked over to Laxus, who was already browsing his menu. "What do you want?"
"I dunno, something red," he said, not really interested.
Freed stared. Red? Just red? "Right…" he muttered.
His father's obsession with wine, even providing Magnolia Opera House with their wines, left Freed with an appreciation for the subtlety of a good grape. He tried to think about what Laxus would likely order, his tastes, and matching that to what was on the wine menu. In particular, it would be nice for Laxus to have a true Italian wine. Then one caught his eyes, and Freed lit up.
"Sangiovese for him," he declared, knowing Laxus would like that one, "and, um … pinot grigio." He handed back the menu, then suddenly recalled one bit of important Italian. "Per favore," he added politely. His father used to say, one must always know how to say please and thank you in the language of the country you're visiting.
The accent made the waiter smile. At least he was a polite foreigner. "Very good."
He left, and Freed gazed around the plaza. Imagine living here! All this culture and history and amazing food, right in front of you. Probably, it would grow to be as mundane as the fast-paced city life was to him. Even things that he knew were not common, like garden parties and evenings at the opera, were mindless trivialities when he was growing up. A person did not truly see what was so special about their culture until they could see it from at outsider's view.
Their wines came, and they ordered. They started with a cheese and meat platter, both wanted the clam spaghetti, and for the main course Laxus went with a beef filet—as Freed had anticipated, Laxus went with red meat—while he went with the sea bass. They decided to each get a different dessert so that they could share, so Freed got tiramisu while Laxus got cheesecake.
"It's actually called cheesecake here!" he exclaimed, glad to see at least one word on the menu that he knew.
They shared each other's desserts with romantic chuckles, and they relaxed with another glass of wine. Freed felt full, at ease, and so, so happy. He gazed out at the plaza and lifted his glass for a sip.
Sitting in front of that ancient temple, with the stars above and a marble fountain nearby, Laxus could hardly help but feel in awe at everything. Freed himself looked perfectly relaxed, as if in another life he had strolled these streets.
Damn, he looks amazing!
As Freed sipped his wine, Laxus brought out his phone and snapped a picture. Freed froze with the glass on his lips as he saw what Laxus was doing. When the camera lowered, then Freed also lowered his wineglass.
"Did you just take a picture?"
Laxus shrugged his huge shoulders. "Yeah."
"Let me see." He leaned over the table, and Laxus showed him his phone screen with the picture of Freed, his face lit from the restaurant and the candle on the table, and beyond, as a backdrop, was the Pantheon. Freed's mouth dropped, and he tugged the phone to be closer as he examined the picture. "Wow! That's honestly an amazing photograph. The wineglass aligns with the fountain at just the right angle, you framed my face with the Rotunda in a balanced way, and the lighting from the candle gives it a chiaroscuro feel. Wow, you have an eye for composition."
"I have no clue what you just said," Laxus mumbled, "but thanks." He pulled back his phone and looked again at the picture. Chiaroscuro? Composition? Whatever! The fact that Freed was in it was what made that picture amazing.
"Send that to me. I'll post it on Instagram." He chuckled slyly. "I'm sure it'll make Loke jealous."
Laxus smirked lewdly. "I could send him a picture later tonight that will really make him jealous."
Freed gazed at him, unamused by the crude hint in the midst of this romantic setting. "He's straight, dear. The only way you'd make him jealous that way is if you had a harem of Italian women around you." He began to take another drink, but paused with narrowed eyes. "And I would not be flying home on the same plane with you if that happened."
Laxus reached across the table, took Freed's hand, and rubbed his thumb over the promise ring. "Don't worry." A harem of women was nothing compared to his perfect, amazing boyfriend.
They finished, paid, and strolled back into the plaza.
"So," Laxus said, "where to next?"
"Well, wanna walk a little more?"
"Yeah. Feels nice to stretch my legs." He glanced around at how few people were around now. "It feels like it should only be the afternoon, but God I'm tired."
Freed had to agree. "Jet lag, and it kinda is afternoon back home. Pretty late here." He looked around and realized something else nice was nearby. "I know a place. Come on."
He grabbed Laxus' hand with excitement and headed along the Roman streets until they came to another plaza. Here, the sound of trickling water produced a peaceful atmosphere, while the massive church dominating the square gave an austere feel.
"Where are we? It's like … statues, fountains, and churches." All of which looked like they had been built hundreds of years ago. "Shit," he muttered. The sheer antiquity that Rome so far gave him was impressive, but also oppressive.
"Sant'Agnese in Agone," Freed said, gazing at the baroque building. "According to the story, there was a thirteen-year-old girl named Agnes, a Roman noble whose family was Christian back when being that religion could get you killed. She was beautiful and had many men vying for her hand in marriage, but she refused, wanting to remain a virgin, so they reported to the authorities that she was a Christian. She was stripped naked, dragged through the streets of Rome, but she prayed, and her hair grew long to cover her nudity. She was then taken to a brothel where many men tried to rape her. Each rapist was struck blind, and one died but revived when she prayed over his body. So she was taken to this square, tied to a stake, and was going to be burned, but the flames parted away from her body. So the officer in charge … beheaded her."
Laxus stared at him in horror. "Fuck! Rapist pedophiles?" he exclaimed with a sneer on his lips. "Damn, if there is a God, he should've killed every single one of them." He folded his arms in anger, but then he glanced sideways over at Freed. "Is that story even true?"
"The miracles, definitely not, but apparently this is one saint who really did exist, and she really was killed when she was thirteen for…" He shrugged, realizing there was no delicate way to say it. "…not wanting to have sex."
Laxus shook his head. "Fucked up, that's what it is. And now, some Christians would want to do the same shit to people like you and me. 'God hates fags,' kill trans-folks, rape lesbians to make them want men." He scoffed as he glared at the church. "Ain't nothin' changed, just who's killin' who. Romans killing Christians, Christians killing gays, one of these days it'll be gays killing someone else. Just a fucked up cycle of hate."
Freed nodded solemnly, gazing around at the Christian martyr site. "They built this lovely plaza, fountains, a church, all to remember a little girl who was killed for not wanting sex, yet they've killed people who do want sex, but not with the person they deem is okay. Like you said, a cycle of hate, completely forgetting the message of Christ: God is love, and love is love." Freed sighed and gazed around. "I'm glad not all Christians are like that, but so many are."
His own childhood had been filled with those sorts of hateful Christians, old church ladies who gleefully called him a faggot and insinuated much worse, but he had also met many who shrugged off his homosexuality, accepting him as he was with open arms, even standing up for him against those with animosity festering in their hearts.
They strolled along, listening to the fountains as they took in the otherworldly beauty of Rome at night. Freed sighed to himself. Seeing Rome lit up, the streets nearly empty, modern lighting making the ancient marble and granite buildings gleam celestial silver … it was like magic.
"Fuckin' offensive."
Freed jolted out of his idyllic thoughts and looked up to Laxus. His blue eyes were on the fountain and sculpture in the middle of the plaza.
"This church is for a girl who didn't want sex, yet right in front, right on the place where she's supposed to have been killed, they built a giant dick statue."
"Wh-What?"
He saw what Laxus was looking at. Fontana dei Fiumi (Fountain of the Four Rivers) had a large basin with Roman gods to represent four rivers from around the world: the Nile, the Danube, the Ganges, and the Río de la Plata. Above the statue of gods, palm trees, lions, rock croppings, and various animals, was a tall, spiked Egyptian pillar.
"It's called an obelisk," he cried out.
"It's a fuckin' dick statue," Laxus insisted. "I think it's rude, erecting that where a girl died for not wanting a cock up her pussy. It's a big fuck you to what she died for."
Freed seriously hoped none of the tourists wandering around knew English. "I'm sure they didn't mean it that way."
"Well someone meant it that way. Why the fuck would you build a phallic statue on the place where a virgin martyr died unless it's to say fuck you to women who don't want sex?"
Freed put his hands on Laxus' chest, like calming down a giant about to go on a rampage. "Okay, I shouldn't have told you that story."
"Yeah, it's a fucked up story and it's got me a bit pissed off," he snapped. "She was just a kid. Thirteen? Fuck!"
"Okay, calm down, calm down." He took Laxus' arm, hoping to pull him away before anyone heard him. Appealingly, like to a child about to have a tantrum, he said, "How about we go look at the dolphin statue?"
Laxus grumbled something under his breath, and they walked on through the plaza, past the church with the obelisk statue, on toward another fountain at the far end. Freed found Laxus' reaction to be amusing, but it also showed how much he worried about abused children. He recalled how Laxus had reacted in the women's shelter, how enraged it all made him, and his desire to do something, to help in whatever way he could. His rage at a misdeed over a thousand years ago just showed that, deep down inside, Laxus had a soft spot for children.
And that was rather sweet?
Laxus seemed to cool off as they approached the fountain on the far end with a god surrounded by dolphins. "Curious," he muttered.
"Oh! That's Triton, god of—"
"No, I mean that Agnes chick."
Freed raised an eyebrow. Was he still stuck on that?
"Do you think she was asexual?"
Now his mouth dropped. "What?"
"Y'know, like maybe all these virgin martyrs were just asexual. They didn't wanna fuck, and folks thought that was holy and shit. Ain't holy or chaste, they're just Ace."
Laxus' thought actually was one Freed had at times thought himself, especially back when he went to church. "I think maybe that's true for some of them. Back then, people assumed that wanting sex should be natural."
"Wanting straight sex," Laxus emphasized. "Plain, vanilla, straight sex."
"Even if they knew gays and lesbians existed, it's only recently that society has come to accept that some people have no sexual attraction at all. Before then, they were just chaste. Not that all of them were ace—some probably chose to remain virgins out of genuine devotion—but amidst over 600 female saints, chances are pretty good that a few were asexual, and they just didn't have a word for that yet."
"Wouldn't it be funny if they were actually lesbians, and the Catholic Church canonized hundreds of queers without even realizing it? I mean, if you were a dyke back then, and staying single could get you burned at the stake, your best bet was to join a convent. I bet nunneries were nothing more than a bunch of lesbians getting it on."
Freed's face drew up. "Okay, no more lesbian nun porn for you!" He glanced around the square again and grumbled, "Seriously, you're going to offend someone."
"Ain't no one knows what I'm saying in Italy."
"Italians can learn English too, you know. Let's leave Saint Agnes and her sexual orientation behind and head back to the hotel. I'm getting sleepy."
Laxus wrapped his arm around Freed. "How about next time, no rapist pedophile stories?"
Freed chuckled and leaned into him. "Yeah. Just enjoy the beautiful architecture for what it is, not why it was built."
They turned back around, strolling the ancient brick roads, back through arches that dated back to the Renaissance Times, past the Pantheon with its statue and the elephant in front of the Minerva, and finally got to their hotel. Entering this time was a little bit easier for Laxus, after having touched the columns of the Pantheon and walked around marble statues in many plazas. They got to their suite, and Laxus gladly took off his shoes. This time, he was able to look around more and appreciate it, not just panic. He flopped on the couch and noticed the box of chocolates the porter had pointed out before. He popped one into his mouth.
Maybe opulence wasn't such a bad thing.
Freed slipped up around behind, draping himself around Laxus' shoulders. "Are you ready to see the bedroom?" he asked in a seductive whisper.
"Am I?" he asked, seriously curious now, but worried if this would cause yet another panic attack.
Freed tugged on his hands, looking excited, and not just in an erotic way. This was obviously something he wanted to show off.
As soon as Laxus stepped inside, he saw why.
"Fuuuuuuck me," he whispered.
"Maybe later," Freed teased.
The entire room was like something out of a castle. The ceiling was painted in a fresco of vivid colors: playful oranges, summery blues, romantic pinks. Like a cathedral, the ceiling was held up by arches painted in regal gold and blue, like draping garlands all around. In contrast, the bed and furniture were fairly modern, in stark black and white, accentuated by vases of pink orchids. Somehow, the two balanced each other out, Renaissance with Modern, opulence with convenience.
"Seriously, how much does this cost a night?" Laxus said, narrowing his eyes down at Freed.
Unperturbed, he smirked. "And I told you, you don't want to know."
Laxus walked up to the bed and slid his hand along the pale gold cover. "Fuck," he whispered in awe. "Is it over a thousand dollars?"
"It's in euros, don't ask me to convert it."
Laxus turned around in the room, trying to take it all in, to somehow accept that he was about to sleep in a room like this. Freed gave him a moment, but he was fighting off yawns. His nap on the plane felt like ages ago.
"Are you going to be okay if I take a shower?"
A smile tweaked the corner of Laxus' mouth, and he slowly turned around with a hungry gaze in his eyes. If this was how Freed wanted to spend their anniversary, he would definitely do his utmost to help him enjoy it.
"Can I take it with you?" he asked, his voice low, sensual, and carnal.
Freed's tongue licked his lips. "I was hoping you'd say that."
With a crook of his finger, he brought Laxus over to the bathroom. Here as well, elegance and modernism blended effortlessly. The marble countertops and golden-brown walls worked with a checkered black and white tiling on the floor, and to the side, something caught Laxus' eye.
"Whoa, hey cool, is that a jacuzzi?"
"Yep!" Freed chuckled proudly that he finally sounded giddy and not mildly scared.
"Ahh, damn!" he said in excitement. Laxus walked right up to the black marble and saw just how huge the jacuzzi was … and thought about what they could do in that. Now, he almost wished they could stay in Rome for the whole week. He really had wasted their first evening.
Freed saw the flinch of disappointment and assured Laxus, "We'll check that out tomorrow night."
"You better believe we are!" Laxus was determined to make it up to Freed. Besides, they were both sore and tired from the long flight, so taking it easy their first night was fine.
Freed slipped out of his clothes, and Laxus sat on the edge of the jacuzzi to watch, getting his own private strip show. Freed caught sight of the lecherous leer and blushed with self consciousness.
"Go on," Laxus urged him, devouring him with his eyes.
Freed faltered in the automatic actions of pulling off his shirt. He set it aside, undid his belt, and slid his zipper down, shimmying the trousers off his hips.
"All the way down," Laxus said with a hungry smirk.
Freed laughed awkwardly and tucked his head aside. "Laxus…" Being watched like this was making his heart race.
"Go on," he urged again, loving the humiliated blush on his half-nude body.
Freed licked his lip, and now it was his eyes that were heated. "All right."
He continued to undress to the appreciative hums of Laxus. Freed could not meet his gaze as he removed everything.
"Are you embarrassed?"
What sort of question was that! "A little," he confessed, feeling like his face was steaming with humiliation.
"Good!"
By the time Freed was done, he was half hard, standing awkwardly, not sure if he should try to hide himself or boldly let Laxus gaze on him. The tender smile on Laxus face warmed him up to the idea of just letting Laxus stare, like he was one of those naked Roman statues.
"Perfection," Laxus declared. "Come on, over here."
That was when the show flipped. Laxus pulled Freed over to the jacuzzi. Freed began to sit on the edge, but he instantly shot up.
"Cold!"
"Yeah, don't sit on it," Laxus muttered, rubbing out the icy spot on Freed butt. His hand paused there, and his eyes bored straight into Freed. "All right. You ready?"
He walked over to the sink where Freed had been to change, and he began a little show of his own, sensually unbuttoning his shirt as his body gyrated. At first Freed laughed at the music-less dance, but as Laxus began to swivel his hips, the laughs turned into lusty hums. Even without music, Laxus danced amazing, really hammering it into his groin.
He slid his zipper lower, lower, until Freed was licking drool off his lips. Laxus had to smirk at how, one year later, he could still affect Freed like this.
"You always loved this part," he said, swaying his hips, tantalizing Freed with only the root of his cock visible, all the rest hidden away in the trousers.
Freed shivered at the familiar taunt. "Mm-hmm." His breath was coming faster just seeing it, and down below he knew his cock was beginning to swell.
"Used to be, this was as much as I gave you." His hand slid down, stroking a finger along the thick root and the blond, wiry curls down below. "You wanna see it all? I only show you."
With a lump caught in his throat, Freed nodded. He was still so easily enthralled, something that Laxus had noticed back when Freed was just a loner in the audience. He had always liked that about his little Greenie. So now, he gave him what he wanted. He yanked the trousers down, freeing his cock, and watched Freed nibble helplessly on his lower lip.
"Here you are," he said, stepping up to Freed and standing there, dominating him with a simple gaze. "All yours."
Freed began to reach out toward the cock right in front of him, but he pulled back. It was so tempting to give in to lust, but his body knew he would regret it in the morning. He was still recovering from the party, and another round like that would leave him unable to walk. They had a busy day planned; they could not wear out their bodies just yet.
Laxus saw the struggle Freed had to fight off temptation. Well, he could be the devil to corrupt this angel another night.
"Come on."
He yanked Freed over to the spacious shower and started up the water. The fresh hotel soap smelled like lemon and sage, and Freed got to work cleaning himself off. Just then, Laxus snatched the soap and washcloth away.
"Allow me."
He began to attend to Freed himself, sliding the gentle cloth up and down his limbs, idolizing every inch of him, sometimes unable to help himself as he kissed a spot just before covering it with soap. Freed leaned back against the tiles and hummed at the tender touches. His eyes wanted to close, but he also wanted to see Laxus down on his knees in front of him, washing his feet. It felt so empowering, to have Laxus enthralled by him like this. Despite the hot shower, the imperious view gave him chills.
Then Laxus stood up, towering over Freed, and rested an elbow on the wall, trapping him. He leaned down over Freed's head, pressing himself up against the smooth, pale, wet body.
"What if I make love to you in this shower?" he whispered, giving his hips a suggestive glide up against Freed.
Tempting! So, so tempting! Freed's eyes gleamed as he said, "I think it'd be a horrible waste of the bed."
Freed had tried to make that sound erotic, but the truth was, he looked ready to fall asleep. Laxus rather liked that excuse, and although it was a slight letdown, the cleverness made him chuckle. He respectfully backed off.
Freed flinched at the disappointment pursing Laxus' lips. "I'm sorry—"
"No!" Laxus cut in, and he put a finger to Freed's lips. His eyes were soft with concern and understanding. "You're tired. It's fine," he assured quietly.
He caressed the shower droplets running down Freed's cheek, and Freed leaned into that massive, warm, caring hand. Laxus was also starting to feel a crash that had to be related to the night before. He strongly, fiercely felt the need to grab Freed and smother him in cuddles. Sex was tempting, but cuddling sounded so much more needed right then.
Laxus suddenly insisted, "But I have to wash your hair!"
Freed broke into laughs. So forceful, while still being so adorable! This was what he loved about Laxus.
Freed turned his back and let Laxus pour shampoo onto his hair, working it in and massaging his scalp.
"Mmm, you're so good at this," he said, loving how gentle Laxus was with his hair.
"I better be, after a year."
Freed smiled to himself. "Does that mean you're going to get better?"
"For you? Much better!"
The idea that Laxus would improve himself just for him was also empowering in a way. It also showed how determined Laxus was to make sure Freed was thoroughly pleasured, no matter what that meant, even just being his personal hairdresser.
Freed moaned with his lips parted in an erotic face. Laxus forced himself to hold back. It was not easy. Not at all. Not with Freed!
"Oooooh!"
"Stop moaning like that, seriously," he said, laughing at just how challenging it was to not be seduced by this man.
Freed's turquoise eyes glinted back at him. "Why? It feels good."
Laxus wrapped his arms around Freed, clutched him possessively, and whispered, "You know why." His hands began to drift lower his torso, but realizing Freed did not want to go there, he forced them back up, rubbing his chest and neck instead. He leaned down to Freed's ear and nipped it. "I can barely stop myself when you moan."
Freed smirked and loudly moaned until it echoed in the shower. "MMMMMMMH!"
Laxus burst into laughs and pulled away. "Shit."
"What?" Freed said, playfully sticking his tongue out.
Laxus just had to shake his head as he chuckled. "You brat."
All this luxury, but Freed was still Freed: cheeky, playful, loyal, and casually gorgeous.
Freed rinsed out his hair and took the washcloth, getting Laxus now. He diligently washed his entire body, his neck, chest, arms, back, buttocks, and legs. The temptation to do more than just lightly rub some soap onto his cock and balls was there, but his eyes were blinking to stay awake. He did not want to rile Laxus up only to deny him. Even just this much was making his cock lengthen a bit. So he merely rubbed enough soap to clean away the day's sweat, and then worked on cleaning his feet.
A hand landed on his head, and he looked up. Laxus was gazing down at him, there on his knees, not erotic, but like a servant making sure his master was properly bathed. That made the act affect Laxus even more. Despite being obviously tired, his eyelids drooping, with many hidden yawns, Freed was still attending to his needs.
Laxus lifted Freed up by the hand, and after a moment of staring at him with a strange feeling of wonder, thinking for the millionth time that he was the luckiest man on Earth to get a boyfriend like this, he suddenly wrapped his arms around Freed, clutching him tightly to his chest. Laxus held him silently in the shower, letting the soap wash off, refusing to let go. He needed to know for certain that Freed was really here, and this was not all one incredible dream. He felt Freed's hands stroking his back, consoling him and whatever emotional moment he was having.
Without a word, Laxus just held him, needing him as he realized this past year really had happened. As he had said earlier, it was insane how far he had come. A year ago, he was a nobody, some mentally fucked-up strip dancer, living in a moldy tenement, barely making enough money to survive month to month, taking rich clients for a night of erotic dominance which aroused those men but to Laxus was nothing more than a way of vicariously taking out his hatred for his father on other men, coming up with inventive ways of making a person hurt. Now here he was, on an anniversary vacation with his heir-to-a-fortune boyfriend, in a four-hundred-year-old luxury hotel in Rome, in a shower artists, religious leaders, and nobility had used.
With a sigh and a shake of his head at how crazy the journey to this point had been, Laxus respectfully backed off. He finished washing up, and they stepped out of the shower to dry themselves on the softest towels Laxus had ever felt. Freed decided, being this late, he would blow-dry his hair, while Laxus went to the couch, popped open that complimentary wine, and turned on the television to unwind. He flipped from channel to channel, dramas, news reports, politicians yelling at each other, all in Italian. He had this problem when he was in Greece as well, and there was usually at least one channel playing shows in English.
Then he found an old episode of Star Trek: Voyager in English with subtitles. Not normally the sort of thing he watched, but it would do. He settled down to Commander Chakotay and Seven of Nine discussing some new issue in the Delta Quadrant. Freed came out and joined him on couch, tucking his feet up under him. Laxus poured him a glass of wine, and Freed gladly took a sip.
"Did you ever watch this as a kid?"
"Not really," Laxus admitted. "Although I always thought Seven was hot."
"I had such a crush on Chakotay. That tattoo!" Freed reached up and touched the lightning scar on Laxus' face. "Maybe I've always had a thing for guys with marks on their faces."
Laxus gave him a kiss on the forehead that made Freed blush. Laxus offered him some of the chocolates, and at the first bite Freed was in sweet-tooth heaven. They cuddled together to watch the show and nibble chocolates. The wine made Freed even more sleepy, and as he slumped against the muscular arm next to him, Laxus had to ease the glass out of his hand before he spilled it.
"Hey, if you're going to fall asleep, go to bed."
"Mm-hmm," Freed hummed, not opening his eyes.
Too cute! "Come on," he said, nudging him up.
"I dun wanna," Freed said, sounding like he was already lost in a dream.
"What was that about a horrible waste of the bed? Come on."
Freed reluctantly pulled himself out of some dream and stretched his limbs. Dragging his feet, he let himself be guiding to the bed, and Laxus tucked him in. He looked up, realizing the night was about to end without anything passionate.
He said in sleepy protest, "I mean, we can—"
"Shh," Laxus whispered, kissing him on the top of his head. "You sleep. It's fine." He kissed him again. "I'll turn off the lights."
Rather than continue to protest, Freed snuggled down on that bed that nobles and artists had slept in, looking like a prince himself. Laxus went back to the sitting room, turned off the television, finished off the two glasses of wine, and turned out the lights. He walked over to the window that overlooked Piazza della Minerva and the city lights of Rome.
"Amazing," he muttered to himself.
He went to the bedroom and slipped under the sheets. Freed rolled into him, clinging needily, and they both sighed as they settled in for the night. However, there was one thing Laxus wanted to clear up.
"Hey, uh, for the record," he said, "I do not watch lesbian nun porn."
"Nice to know," Freed murmured, almost asleep already.
"Although, I did watch Catholic school punishment BDSM videos back in high school."
Even with his eyelids closed, Freed's eyes rolled. "… I really did not need to know that."
"You'd make a sexy-as-fuck priest." He played with the long, green hair. "Want me to confess my sins, Father Freed?"
Freed smiled dreamily. "Only if I'm the one who gets to punish you this time."
Roll reversal, huh? And Freed in a priest's robe? "We'll look into that. Could be hot."
"What about a rabbi?"
Laxus sneered. "Oh, fuck no. It'd be weird. I'm not Catholic, so the Catholic thing is hot, but rabbis? Fuck that, no."
Freed hummed out the last of his strength. Laxus continued to hold him as he felt Freed's body go limp and his breathing got slow and deep. Laxus gazed at the shadows and pale moonlight on Freed's body and whispered into the darkness.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I corrupted an angel, but that angel pulled me out of hell, so maybe you can forgive us both." He traced the edge of Freed's face. "Amen."
His fingers continued to play with Freed's hair until a deep weariness sank into Laxus, and with the Roman god Somnus casting his magic on him, he fell asleep.
Next Chapter: "Roman Holiday"
AUDIO DRAMA: https://chirb.it/ADGg6y
Listeners get actual ASMR sounds from around Rome, Italian TV, plus Voyager.
Shout out to Trekkers who know who Chakotay and Seven are!
Sorry for the long delay. I published a new book (see http://shadowstrider.net) then Covid-19 messed up life. I'm safe and staying indoors, since I'm high risk.
Grand Hotel de la Minerve, or "The Minerva," was built in 1620 and turned into a luxury hotel in the late 18th Century. Freed and Laxus are staying in the Stendhal Suite. (I posted pictures on AO3 and Wattpad.)
The Stendhal Suite costs €1100 a night ($1250 USD). It was named after French writer Stendhal, who made his home there for a while. Coincidentally, a condition of emotional anxiety at seeing a work of art, similar to Laxus being overwhelmed by the hotel, is known as "Stendhal Syndrome," after the writer described his art-induced panic attack while in Italy. Italian hospitals get a few cases a day of people fainting, having chest pains, or going into panic attacks when they see a work of art, including a visitor who dropped dead of a heart attack after viewing Botticelli's "The Birth of Venus."
The restaurant they eat at, Gruppo di Rienzo, is on my "must see" list for whenever I visit Italy. If any of you ever visit Rome, keep this place in mind.
Yes, that really is the story of Saint Agnes, and yes, as Laxus so eloquently said … it's fucked up.
Obelisks were all the rage in the architecture of the 17th to the 19th Centuries. There are obelisks in front of The Minerva, the Pantheon, Piazza Navrona, and Saint Peter's Basilica, to name a few in Rome. In America, the Washington Monument is an obelisk, and many cemeteries built before the 1900s had obelisks rather than rounded headstones.
Contrary to conspiracy theories, obelisks had nothing to do with phallic idolatry. In Egypt, the obelisk represented a ray of light from the god Ra; the power of the sun followed a person to the grave and brought about resurrection. In early Christianity, it represented the Holy Spirit shining down, with the pyramid on top representing the three sides of the Trinity. Many conspiracy theorists say the Greek god Pan was represented as an obelisk, thus its symbology is a phallic one. Every single website used the same cut-and-paste sentence with this claim, with not a single example to prove it’s true. I dug into this claim (I love mythology and symbolism) and found not a single example of an obelisk-Pan. There were tons of anatomically correct statues of cocks; I mean, why build a boring four-sided phallic statue to Pan when you can have a massive marble penis with foreskin folds, hanging balls, and pubic hair! (Ancient Greeks were so fun!) The fact that the obelisk had nothing to do with Pan is honestly disappointing; he's one of my favorite gods.
Meanwhile, dick-obsessed Evangelical Christians claim "the word 'obelisk' literally means 'Baal's shaft'." Which is as bullshit as saying "Laxus literally means 'lightning penis'." The Greek word ὀβελός means a nail or pillar, NOT a dick, and NOT the dick of a god. Plus if the Greeks used obelisks to represent Pan, why would they use a word that means "Baal's shaft"? It literally makes no sense. So, as fun as it is to be a horny conspiracy theorist and think the world is full of "dick statues," obelisks have never been used that way. The world is FILLED with religious dick statues, don't worry... but the obelisk is not one of them.
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