Catch the Thunder

Freed and Laxus stepped into a hotel room. Laxus glanced around the room. It was small, cheap, something close to the campus and probably meant for visiting guest speakers or parents of students wanting to visit their children. Laxus doubted that the walls were thick, but he equally doubted that the hotel had more than a dozen people. At least Freed requested a top-floor room. There was even less chance of someone being up here.

"Get yourself ready," he ordered.

Freed made a small gasp, but he nodded. "R-right." He set a satchel down with the things he brought. It was not a lot, but he had the basics, including some suppositories to clean himself inside. He blushed as he took those and scrambled off to the restroom. He rested his hands on the sink and lowered his head to calm himself. Freed wondered if he would ever stop feeling his heart race like this just at the thought of having sex with Laxus. He already felt hard just anticipating it.

He raised his face and looked in the mirror. 'What does Laxus see in me? Why would someone so amazing give up his entire livelihood just for a guy like me?'

In the main room, Laxus walked over to the window and stared out at the city. He let out a deep breath and watched it fog the icy, wintry window. Outside, the campus spread out like a miniature city of its own, the leaves all gone from the trees, the sky overhead gray and threatening snow, while students rushed to classes, preparing for winter finals. He closed his eyes on the world and focused inward. He needed to psych himself up. He had a hard day, but this was time to let everything go. To let it all fade.

To be the Thunder God again!

"Master?"

He turned around sharply and saw Freed already naked, kneeling on the ground, with his head down in submissive position. It made his heart race just seeing that, with the green hair draping down to the floor.

Laxus closed the curtains, shutting out the world of wintry chill, cram studying, lost jobs, crazy clients, fucked up families, all the shit that was out there in that place called the real world. Here in this room was something far more real: him as master, Freed as slave. Fantasy play? Hardly! This was far more real than anything else in his life. These feelings, this desire, the bonds between them, were all real. His life as a dancer, as a sadist-for-hire, and the sculpted grounds of the university: that was fake. That was playing a role: the good son, the perfect student, the hardhearted stripper, the professional Dom. Just roles. This connection between him and Freed was more real than any of that.

"Are you ready?" he asked in a low, sensual tone.

That voice shot through Freed and straight down to his groin. "Ah ... yes, master."

Laxus walked over to the bag of goodies, searching for something good to use. He felt something strange and pulled it out. In his hands was a collar. He held it by the metal buckle and eyed the black leather dangling down, then he looked sharply over to Freed.

"What's this?"

Freed glanced up and saw it. His face suddenly went pale. Shit! He had toss everything into the bag without looking. That including some things Laxus did not yet know about. "Ah, um, I..." He cringed down and whispered, "I bought it."

"On your own?"

Freed chewed his lower lip. "Is that bad?"

"No," Laxus said quietly in amusement. He looked from the leather strap and then down to Freed again. "You want to be collared, huh?"

"I thought ... maybe ... sometime."

Laxus walked back over to where Freed was knelt. His green head lowered deeper, not daring even to look at Laxus' shoes. Still, he heard them stop right in front of him, and he crouched down, wondering if he would get punished.