Freed has been frequenting a gay strip club to watch his favorite dancer, "Thor." He hears that Thor is about to get fired because his gruff ways don't get him customers. Freed can save his job, but only by hiring this blond dancer who, up until now...
Freed felt like he was crawling back into consciousness. The haze of a sweet dream melted away, and he felt warmth beside him. This was only the third time since Laxus returned that he actually woke up beside his lover, yet already the weight on the mattress felt familiar, comfortable, normal, like he had always slept by his side, they had always lived together like this, and this was the most normal way to wake up.
He scratched at his head, ruffling up the cowlicks that liked to stick out at the worst times. Fatigue still tugging on his body, yet he rolled around. Despite the summer afternoon heat and a lingering humidity of sex, Laxus had rolled the blankets around him and looked quite comfortable as a drooling burrito.
Freed put a hand to his mouth to stifle the laugh so he would not wake him. He reached over, grabbed his phone, turned on the camera, and pulled his arms way out, angling it to get both himself and his sleeping boyfriend. Laxus got his kinky sex tape; Freed snapped his after-sex selfie.
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Ooh, Laxus would spank his ass if he ever found out about this!
Giggling to himself, he texted the picture to Loke with the comment:What a cutie, no? Guess who topped! 😉
Seconds later, the phone pinged. Loke had written back in all caps:OMG WHOA DUDE YOU'RE LIKE TOTALLY NOT A VIRGIN ANYMORE! 😲
Freed almost did not stop his laugh in time. Totally not a virgin? He hadn't been for months! Then again, there were many types of virginity, or so he had learned while reading some random online article about modern concepts of sexuality. He simply lost one type of virginity: someone who had never penetrated another person before. Thinking about it that way made him blush.
The phone pinged again. Kiss him awake. Kiss your pretty blond daddy. 😘💋
Kiss him, huh? He also thought to himself, Laxus wasn't his daddy; he was his master. He texted back: I'll try that. See you at work Monday.
Ping! Details, man, details!
Text! You wish.
Ping! Prude! Maybe I'll ask him myself.
Text! He'd probably show you the sex tape.
Ping! WHAAAAAAAAT?!
Freed stifled a laugh, set the phone on silent, and placed it on the charger, ignoring anything else Loke had to say. Then he rolled back around to Laxus. Slowly, trying not to shift the bed, he scooted up closer. Laxus' mouth hung open with slow, heavy breathing, not quite snores, and a little drool moistening the pillow under him. Cautiously, Freed leaned over and let his lips rest on the neck, right over a purple hickey. His mark!
A sharp snort sucked in, Laxus' mouth closed, yet he did not move. He was sleeping, mostly. He saw dreams, but he felt kisses. His dream turned into kissing. What was dream now, and what was real?
