Catch the Thunder

Laxus woke up to see it was dark outside. He glanced over at the clock. Only nine. They had done it not just through two replays of In A Gadda Da Vida, but through three, with their third time being the slow, sensual, gentle lovemaking Laxus had initially wanted. Neither came the third time. They made love until they tired out.

Curled up tightly beside him on the narrow bed was Freed, practically smashed against the wall but looking happy to be by Laxus' side. The blond smiled down at his lover and stroked back his hair.

"You really are something, Greenie," he whispered.

Gently, to not disturb Freed too much, Laxus shifted out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. He relieved himself, then pulled on his clothes. He wanted to let Freed rest as much as he needed, especially after such an experience. He sincerely hoped it had not hurt too badly.

"I wonder how you do this to me," he sighed.

Laxus looked around the dorm room some more. How might it have been if he had gone to a university? It was not like his family was too poor to afford tuition. He just never had an interest in education. He supposed it was not too late to learn. Still, what sort of field could he study? He doubted if there was a major in professional sadism. Maybe he could do something with what he had learned as an electrician, before he discovered that he made more money stripping.

Loke's desk was slightly messy, while Freed's was impeccably tidy. Of course, he might have straightened up before Laxus arrived. He wondered how it looked on a normal day. Was he always tidy? Did his desk get all cluttered up with reports and class notes?

He saw the family photo on the desk again. Freed looked younger in the picture, his hair shorter. He had an enigmatic smile. His sister looked like she was trying too hard to be a model, posing with her lips out in a duck face. The brother looked like a total idiot with his tongue lolling and hair spiked out. There was also something about his eyes...

"A family. Siblings. Two parents— Wait." He snatched the frame up to take a closer look. "Is that your father?" Laxus cried out, gawking at the photo.

Freed sleepily opened his eyes. "Huh?"

"The guy in this picture. Is he your father?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Laxus set the frame down so hard, it fell over, hiding the picture. He turned away from the desk with a disturbed face. "Nothing. It's ... it's nothing." His hand went up, covering his mouth as his brow tightened. "Shit. Not him. Anyone but him."

"Laxus?" Freed woke up more and raised stiffly, slightly pained. He shifted his hips as he felt the lingering ache. "What is it? Do you know my father?"

His eyes hardened. "Yeah, I do."

"How?"

His lips curled in disgust. "You really don't want to know."

"Why not? How could you...? Oh," Freed whispered, and he collapsed back onto the bed in shock. "Oh ... oh God. You don't mean..." He could not bring himself to say it.

"Yeah," Laxus muttered, looking disturbed and angry.

"He's one of your ... no way! That's a sick joke. My father, a client of yours? That's not even funny." He waited, hoping Laxus would smile and say sorry for joking about something so inappropriate. Instead, the blond looked nervous. "Laxus? You ... you're joking, right? There's no way you could know him. My father ... he ... he isn't..." Still, Laxus was not denying it. His back was to Freed, and his fists were clenched to keep them from shaking. Something surged up in Freed's stomach, and he choked it back down. "You're wrong!" he screamed.