Chapter 6: Another Dirty Secret

"Mirajane."

The woman jumped, her startled yelp at odds with the threatening stance she struck.

"Yes, Laxus?"

Morning sun slanted across her glaring expression. He'd gotten here much earlier than he usually did. For good reason: no listening ears.

"Who was he?" Laxus asked without preamble.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb," he growled.

She turned her back on him. "He wouldn't like me to tell you."

"How would you know that?"

"Because I know things." Her eyes glinted with malice that shocked him out of his own anger a bit: Mirajane wasn't usually upset at people without cause, and as far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to deserve this yet. He hadn't seen her since the blind date setup.

"Fine," he spat. "If he wants to play it that way, whatever. Tell him I want to meet with him."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"If you have shit to do, deal with it on your own."

Laxus's lips curled up in a snarl. "Why?"

"Because I don't like you right now." She gave an airy shrug.

"What the hell did I ever do to you? This isn't even your business."

"Apparently it is, if you're here talking to me about it."

He took a step forward, and Mirajane came around to face him. Nearly nose to nose, Laxus's voice tightened to a hiss.

"You're the one who set me up with him in the first place. You started this."

Mira glared for a long minute.

"I suppose I did. Fine, I'll ask him. But don't blame me if he's not interested: you're the one who absolutely insisted it would be a one-time thing."

Laxus felt his pulse double.

"How the fuck do you know that?"

"Because he told me," Mira said. "Unlike you, I actually talk to my friends."

Laxus had no clue where that accusation came from, but it didn't matter: he had what he came for.

"Just don't forget to tell to him," he ground out, storming from the guild.

Freed spent a lot longer setting up his magic this time.

He made it so Laxus would be blind again, and scents weren't just masked, they were removed, so there could be no transference. Not that he expected…well, he didn't know what to expect. Mira made it sound like Laxus wanted to talk, so Freed wanted to listen.

Listening? That's it? she'd asked. Her words put increasing doubts in his head, thoughts he never indulged in normally. Freed had claimed not to know why Laxus asked a man to fuck him, but maybe it really was that simple: maybe Mira was right and Laxus had agreed for the same reason Freed did—he wanted it.

So why did you rage at me all those years ago?

Sitting down on a lone rock, Freed waited in the patch of forest he had claimed.

When Laxus emerged through the trees, his head was bent, distracted. His long gait, the way he held himself, made him so much more attractive than he realized. Freed enjoyed watching him, free to do so here where he was effectively invisible.

Laxus stumbled into the circle of Freed's wards and stopped short, head up, sniffing the air.

That's when Freed saw the circles under his eyes and his harried expression. Worry shot through him and he nearly crossed the space between them to clasp Laxus's shoulder.

But no. Here he wasn't Laxus's friend. Just an anonymous lover.

"So we're still playing it this way?" Laxus asked, gesturing at his blinded eyes.

"Yes."

"I have a question for you." Laxus raked his fingers through his hair, spreading his feet. "Did you do something to me using draconic magic?"

What?

Freed knew the instant electricity flowed through Laxus's body. Very few people would sense it, but he knew what to look for—the sharp taste in the air, something about to pop. Laxus felt threatened.

"No," Freed said, soothing, like Laxus was a beast. "I would never do something like that, to a lover or a guildmate. Why do you ask?"

Though his hands remained fisted, Laxus's magic settled.

"Something is wrong with me."

Freed's body rang with alarm. Laxus never said things like that. Even to the Raijinshuu; even to Freed. Things were bad.

"What is it?"

"Someone's…smell. It's clinging to me, and I don't know why."

Freed froze. Oh no.

"I've done everything," Laxus went on, teeth gritted as if the admission were painful. "Everything I know to get rid of a scent. I can spend the entire day alone, but it's still glued to me like sap to tree bark. Nothing gets rid of it."

"Whose?" Freed asked, a tremor running through him.

"Doesn't matter," Laxus barked. "I don't want this scent attached to me anymore. Even on my way here I could smell it."

Fuck, Freed had forgotten he'd leave a trail in the woods. Well, the game was up.

Standing here, Laxus was free of Freed's smell for the first time in nine days. To his shame, he felt bereft, like an important part of him was missing. He hated that scent, was so fucking happy to be rid of it. And yet he longed for it back.

This had to end.

What made it all worse was that he'd ended up associating Freed's smell with That Night. The pleasure he'd felt, the sense of connection and rightness. It brought up all the dirty things he still dreamed about doing to the script mage…

Meanwhile, Freed was same as ever, busy, efficient, concerned about Laxus being sick. Always the perfect captain, perfect friend, perfect everything.

And what was Laxus? An abandoned hound begging for affection with no idea nobody wanted him.

"So this smell…is a result of me?" the other man asked, breaking Laxus from his thoughts.

"It definitely started here," Laxus growled, motioning between them. "Although how and why, I have no idea. This has never happened to me."

"I confess I'm not learned enough in draconic magic to apprehend the full purport of an olfactory issue…"

The man coughed. Using long words in his uncertainty. Just like Freed. Another fucking reminder. Laxus had to swallow down a bitter smile before regurgitating Gajeel's answer.

"When a Dragon Slayer has an emotional connection with someone, their scents start mixing. It's stronger if they fuck. Even if we had a nice physical connection, we don't have an emotional connection—I don't even know who you are. Plus the fact that it's this scent… There's no way this should be happening."

There was a stutter of breath. Laxus was grateful the mage hadn't muted any of his hearing, giving him some gauge on the man's emotions. His partner breathed shallowly, as if trying to control a surge of emotion.

"What is it?" Laxus demanded. If he were honest, part of him was worried. They'd had sex: he was allowed to be concerned about the man's wellbeing.

"I just…wondered. Does it have to be a mutual connection?"

"Dunno." An idea popped into Laxus's head. "You in love with somebody?"

"…Maybe," came the soft answer.

"If we're both in love with people, maybe that's what caused it. Some biological interaction causing our scents to blend…"

—Holy shit, how was he even considering this? He was Laxus Dreyar, the Lightning Dragon Slayer, one of the most powerful wizards in the kingdom. He was not—could not—

I can't love anyone.

"I have no fucking clue," he growled. "Hell, it's not that important anyway. Can't believe I came all this way to bother you."

The other man sighed. "Stop being difficult."

The tone was so perfunctory, Laxus relaxed automatically. People outside the team never spoke to him with such comfortable familiarity.

But hearing the man approach, he stiffened, nervous when one step turned into two, three, four, coming closer…

A hand touched his cheek.

"What are you doing?" Laxus murmured.

"Sympathizing. Come on, Laxus. You can't honestly expect me to believe you don't appreciate a little touch."

"I decide how I feel about things," Laxus said shakily, drawing just out of reach of those warm fingers.

"Why are you so determined not to like this?"

"Maybe I don't like it."

"Or maybe you don't like being happy," the man shot back.

Laxus's chest ruptured, air disappearing from his lungs.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Maybe not."

Laxus hated that a guildmate he didn't even know was able to see through him so easily. Yet it was a relief, too. Someone understood him and didn't judge.

Even though they should judge him. For being a spineless, unmanly coward sneaking around getting fucked by other men because he was just that messed up.

This tenderness passing between them was wrong. All wrong.

"I guess I'm as fucked-up as the rest of you homo assholes," he said.

He knew it was coming, but the punch still knocked him sideways. Stumbling, Laxus went down on one knee, arm pressed to his diaphragm. It was a good hit; strategic against a taller opponent. Some part of him was impressed. Most of him just despised himself.

"Hate is a bad color on you, Laxus," the man spat, heart racing so fast Laxus didn't need enhanced senses to hear it.

"Not hate," Laxus coughed. "Other people can do with their dicks what they want."

"You certainly wanted mine a week ago. Does that make you a fag too?"

Laxus closed his eyes. A longing he didn't understand burst through him, too strong to shove down.

"Yes."

He wanted to be loved. By a man. And if he couldn't have that, he wanted to fuck. Fuck and forget. That's how warped this part of him was. He wanted to be a fag.

"Why do you think I said I only wanted it once?" Laxus said, strangled, resentment pulsing in his veins. "Had to get it out of my system—"

"Shut up! Why do you say things like that? It's like you want to push people away."

Laxus rose slowly, unsure why he was letting this conversation go on. Except maybe he was waiting for another punch to land—maybe he kind of wanted it. It was what he deserved. Maybe too some part of him was turned on by being here.

He wanted to stay here as long as possible with the man who had made love to him. The dark, lonely corner of his mind wanted to pretend it had meant something. Pretend that even if he couldn't have it, happiness still existed.

"Look at you," the man said, wilting and sad. "Despite everything you just said, you're aroused. I punched you and you're not even angry. You don't know what you want, do you? It's pathetic."

"Yeah," Laxus said, looking down. "I know."

There was a heavy sigh.

"Fuck you for looking so pitiable," his invisible partner said. "I almost want to hug you. Gods."

It was clear to Freed that Laxus was carrying around his scent because Freed cared for him. Why Laxus hadn't figured this out, hadn't figured out Freed loved him, and still hadn't figured out whom he was talking to…

Laxus was smarter than this.

But he was clearly not himself. He admitted to something being wrong. Then he took that punch: the Laxus-equivalent of an apology. Things weren't alright.

Not that Freed was totally complaining. Hitting him felt good—Laxus fucking deserved it. Freed didn't want a fight. He just wanted a little dignity back.

He wanted Laxus to stop being scared of him and his sexuality.

While Freed had selfish reasons for wanting Laxus to get over his shit, it mattered even more because it was becoming clear as fucking day Laxus had a strong reaction to men. Growing clearer by the second. From the way Freed was actually getting confessions out of him to the fact Laxus was growing hard in the middle of an argument… Not that Freed was looking but, okay, he was looking.

Despite everything Laxus said, some part of him really did want to be here. That fact was getting harder for Freed to deny.

Ignoring all the sensible voices screaming his head, Freed drew his hand down from Laxus's face over his body, rubbing over the bulge in Laxus's trousers.

The Dragon Slayer hissed and stiffened. But he didn't retreat, hands reaching out before fisting at his sides.

The stiff curve of Laxus's cock was tangible through his pants. Stepping right in front of him, Freed splayed his hands on Laxus's chest, enjoying the rapid rise and fall.

You lead me to make bad decisions.

"You don't have to always reject this," Freed said, his voice thickening as he reached down again and felt Laxus throb in his hand.

"Does it—nng—look like I'm rejecting you?" Laxus growled, wincing.

Freed wanted to cry, yes. Instead he bit his lip.

Laxus slid his hands around Freed's waist and his temple clunked roughly against Freed's. Watching Laxus's strained face, Freed ached with grief and desire. Laxus's hands trailed up his sides with something far worse than sensuality: affection.

"I don't do hate sex," Freed whispered.

"Then let's not do that," Laxus murmured. "Let's—oh, fffuck!"

Freed undid Laxus's trousers and closed his fingers around hot flesh. Laxus leaned against him, a whimper escaping as he kissed across Freed's face. Eyes fluttering shut, Freed marveled at how careful those lips could be, unseeing yet so gentle. How Laxus could kiss every centimeter of him like he was more precious than gold.

Freed couldn't help continuing. Laxus wanted Freed touching him. It was a thing he would hardly let himself dream about, too wonderful and impossible to contemplate. But it was truth here. He couldn't walk away from that.

"Dammit, I promised we wouldn't do this again," Freed panted, still jerking at his beloved's cock.

"Because I asked that it be that way." Laxus bit his earlobe and Freed's brain went fuzzy."What if…I asked if we can do it again?"

Freed sucked a breath. "Are you going to keep insulting me?"

He couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice. Laxus kissed down his neck, thick arms drawing Freed closer.

"No," the Dragon Slayer said. "I won't."

Pushing Freed's shirt aside, Laxus sucked at the divot of his collarbone. Freed could feel a hicky being raised there, Laxus's teeth rubbing across the skin in tantalizing nips. Freed fumbled at his buttons, giving Laxus more real estate. The appreciative rumble in Laxus's throat made him melt.

When Laxus dragged him earthward, Freed didn't resist, knees hitting the dirt. Laxus's hands and lips made Freed feel extraordinary, like Laxus was starving and only Freed would satisfy.

Burning inside, Freed caressed Laxus's chin; combed through his hair; wrapped a hand around his neck. Laxus's kisses were long, exploring. Freed shoved Laxus's jacket off and pushed him down onto it. As Laxus removed Freed's belt, Freed ground against him. Laxus groaned.

"Gods, why is this so addictive?" Laxus muttered.

That's what happens when you repress yourself, love.

Teeth grit together, Laxus looked like he was still resisting pleasure. Straddling him, Freed could see the conflict and fear on his face. It filled him with purpose: to delight Laxus so much he finally let go.

This time backed by the full confession that some part of Laxus liked this.

Some part of him might be a tiny bit capable of reciprocating Freed's feelings.

He pressed a kiss to Laxus's open mouth, diving into him and exchanging heated breath. Tonguing at him, Laxus growled. Suddenly Laxus ducked and sank his teeth into Freed's neck in a possessive grip that pierced the skin.

"Shit, yes," Freed whimpered.

Freed sped up his frotting. Laxus owned him. Each time Freed slid his body across Laxus's, Laxus thrust up a little, moaning. Stripping Freed of his shirt, Laxus gripped his back, digging in and guiding his movements. Participating. If it could always be like this…

While Freed wanted to connect skin-on-skin, he couldn't stop long enough for them to undress. It felt too good: their movements were getting harsher every minute, lips locked on each other. Everything Freed felt was Laxus. Laxus everywhere.

"Shit, I'm close," Freed admitted.

A smile tipped across Laxus's lips. He thrust up, making Freed shout as their cocks rubbed over each other.

"Fuck! Gods, I-I can't…Laxus, how do you—what do you want?"

Laxus frowned. Pulling Freed close, he whispered, "Why does it have to be what I want? Hell," he laughed, unbuttoning Freed's trousers, "why does it only have to be once? If you're this turned on, I bet I can make you come again."

Laxus pushed down to the top of Freed's pants, liberated his cock, and began stroking him. Freed cried out. Holy gods.

The movements were fast, fingers tight as they rutted over the head thrust after thrust. Hovering over Laxus as he was, Freed couldn't help moving in time with him, fucking shamelessly into Laxus's hand.

"Fuck, Laxus," Freed groaned.

Laxus made a rumbling sound in his throat, leaning up to suck on his chest. When his head thudded back down a moment later, his panting was ragged.

When Freed opened his eyes, Laxus was smiling. Enjoying touching Freed, enjoying jerking him off. His free hand, which had been at Freed's hip helping support him, slid up play on Freed's chest. Searching, he rubbed his fingers over Freed's nipple and grinned at the gasps Freed couldn't hide.

Seeing Laxus happy like this filled an emptiness in Freed. Joy was excruciating, highlighting what he always tried to ignore:

Freed loved Laxus, effortlessly and constantly like a river leading to the sea.

Laxus leaned up to mouth roughly at whatever part of Freed's skin he could reach. His grip was tight and every touch made Freed feel alive. Gods, Laxus grinned and caressed him and Freed was undone.

"Shit, Laxus…" Freed hissed, unable to hold his name back.

Laxus bit him.

Exultation wrenched Freed's gut and brought a cry from his throat.

"La—Laxusss!"

Shuddering, Freed coated Laxus's stomach, thrusting into Laxus's hand as he rode out the pleasure. Laxus carried him through the haze, stable and solid.

Freed was boneless afterward, arms shaking as he barely held himself up. Grabbing his shirt, he wiped Laxus off and lay on top of him. Freed hadn't indulged in this type of closeness last time, but Laxus didn't protest; the fact that Laxus was still hard as a rock probably helped.

"Did you enjoy that?" Laxus asked.

"Holy shit. You're fantastic."

Freed touched his cheek. The gesture made Laxus startle, twisting away. Freed's hand followed after him automatically and Laxus stopped trying to resist, but doubt lingered in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Freed asked, still stroking his face.

"I don't even know you, and you're being…weirdly kind."

"You don't like me taking care of you?" Freed chuckled.

When Laxus looked away, Freed frowned in confusion.

"Why are you uncomfortable?"

"It's just…not where my brain goes," Laxus mumbled.

"Is this because you love someone else?"

Grunting, Laxus shut his eyes, face twisting at whatever things he saw inside his closed lids. Was this scorn at having feelings for someone, at fucking a stranger when he loved another, or…surely he wasn't still disgusted by two men together?

Freed wanted so badly to seduce him. To draw him into an embrace he could trust. Embrace him as a man without Laxus being disgusted by it.

Being anonymous, Freed could flirt without having to worry about messing up their working relationship. He would be like Cyrano de Bergerac, using a face that wasn't his to express all the things he wanted to say.

Of course, Cyrano had died alone.

Not was that fair to Laxus. Reeling him in while Freed knew his lover and Laxus didn't—Laxus should have the right to tailor his affection to the person he was with…and choose that person in the first place. And their gender.

Freed hated the rules sometimes.

Biting his lip, he asked, "Who do you think I am?"

Chapter 7: Who Betrayed

A/N: So. Much. Angst.