Chapter 32: Confession Under Moonlight
The silence stretched, thick as the velvet bed hangings. Pete held Karn, feeling the tremors subside into the steady rhythm of breathing. Karn hadn’t pulled away. He’d leaned back. His head rested heavy against Pete’s arm, damp lashes brushing skin. The flannel barrier felt less like armor now, just soft fabric over a man who seemed impossibly fragile. Pete didn’t loosen his grip. The penthouse hummed with silence, the city lights painting shifting patterns on the ceiling.
Then, Karn spoke. His voice was low, rough, scraping out into the quiet like stones dragged over gravel. "Pete."
"Yeah?" Pete murmured, the word vibrating against Karn’s hair.
Karn shifted slightly, a tiny adjustment that didn’t break the circle of Pete’s arms. His gaze was fixed on the distant cityscape beyond the window, avoiding Pete’s face even now. "When you... grabbed me." He swallowed audibly. "It scared me. Bad."
Pete’s arms tightened instinctively. "Karn, I swear, I didn't mean—"
"I know you didn't," Karn cut him off, calm but strained. "It wasn't… it wasn't you grabbing me, Pete. Not really. It was… the touch." He paused, struggling. "The unexpected… intimacy of it. When I wasn't… prepared. When I was…" He trailed off, unable to say the word naked. "It felt… exposing. Terrifying. And then… the embarrassment afterwards. How I reacted. Shutting down." He finally turned his head just a fraction, his profile etched in moonlight, cheeks flushed. "I felt like such an idiot. Like I'd shown you something… pathetic."
"Karn, no," Pete breathed, the ache in his chest sharpening. "Never pathetic. I was just… clumsy. Stupid. Scared you off. That's all. I'm so damn sorry. Again." He rested his forehead against the back of Karn’s neck, the apology rough with sincerity. "Didn't mean to make you feel like that. Ever."
Pete swallowed hard, Karn’s proximity and touch unnerving him in a new, profound way. "Yeah," he breathed, the word barely audible. "All of it. Karn…" He took a shaky breath, gathering the courage he’d found crawling across the bed. "I’m sorry for bein’… for makin’ things weird. For bein’ stupid about… whatever this is." He gestured vaguely between them. "But listen… you gotta know. You ain’t just my boss. Or my Purple Tag."
He paused, forcing the raw words out. "You’re… everything. Seriously. Karn Thorne, you’re the most important damn person in my life. Has nothin’ to do with some stupid company tag." His voice thickened, rough with emotion he rarely voiced. "I wanna serve you. Help you. Be there for you. Not ‘cause I gotta. Not ‘cause of any rule. Just… ‘cause it’s you. From the bottom of my heart."
Karn watched him, his expression unreadable in the shadows, though his fingers still rested lightly on Pete’s jaw. The intensity of Pete’s declaration hung heavy in the air. Then, Karn’s gaze sharpened. "Prove it," he said, his voice low and clear. No hint of a request. It was a quiet command. "Prove it’s not just the tag. Prove it’s me."
Pete froze. Prove it? How? His mind raced, blanking under Karn’s unwavering scrutiny. The only way he knew to show absolute devotion, the kind demanded sometimes in this twisted system, felt horrifyingly inadequate now, cheap even. He didn’t want it to be about that. But what else did he have? Panic fluttered in his chest. He didn't know another way. Reluctantly, muscles tense with uncertainty, Pete began to move.
He carefully extricated himself from Karn’s arms and slid off the high bed. The plush carpet felt dense and cool beneath his bare feet. Karn watched him, expressionless now, as Pete took a step back. With a deep, reluctant breath, Pete lowered himself onto his knees right there on the luxurious carpet. He deliberately spread his knees wide, placing his hands behind his head, interlacing his fingers. The position was painfully familiar from the office, designed for inspection. Utter exposure. His erection, a persistent, humiliating presence since the hug tightened, bobbed visibly between his spread thighs.
His cheeks burned as he held the pose, the city lights glinting off his bare skin. He felt Karn’s gaze like a physical weight. "I… I know this is stupid," Pete forced out, his voice strained but polite, unnervingly formal. Like reporting to a superior. Respectful. Subservient. "I know I’m dumb. Can’t… can’t think of no other way to prove it proper. Ain't got the brains for it." He swallowed hard, the words scraping his throat. "But I meant what I said. Every word. I… I worship you, Karn. Deep down. Don’t wanna be nowhere else. Wanna be with you. Whatever you want me to do, whatever you think I'm good for… I’ll do my absolute best. I swear it. For you."
He saw Karn move above him. The man pushed himself up from the pillows, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His feet, also bare, touched the carpet, mere feet from Pete’s knees. Karn sat perched on the edge, looking down at him, his face still shadowed but his posture commanding. Pete felt a fresh wave of vulnerability wash over him. This was it. The ultimate submission. He lowered his gaze from Karn’s face, focusing on his feet. Slowly, Pete began to crawl forward across the plush carpet towards Karn’s bare feet. He braced himself, lowering his head further, preparing to bow down and press his lips to Karn’s instep.
"Stop."
Karn’s voice cut through the heavy silence, sharp but not unkind. Pete froze mid-crawl, head bowed, heart hammering.
"Not my feet," Karn said softly. He extended his right hand, palm down, towards Pete. "Here."
Pete’s gaze snapped up to Karn’s offered hand. The meaning was instantaneous, clear as glass. Relief warred with a strange intensity. He shifted forward on his knees until he was directly in front of Karn. Gently, eyes locked on Karn’s, Pete reached out and took Karn’s right hand in both of his. He guided it towards his face, turning it slightly so the back of Karn’s hand faced him. Slowly, deliberately, Pete bowed his head. He pressed his lips, soft and lingering, against the smooth skin and prominent knuckles of Karn’s hand. It was a kiss of reverence, pure and simple.
The moment his lips made contact, Karn’s hand tensed. Pete felt the slight tremor. Then, almost immediately, Karn withdrew his hand, pulling it back as if the touch burned. Pete looked up. Moonlight caught Karn’s face fully now. His cheeks were flushed a deep, unmistakable crimson, spreading from his cheekbones down his neck. He avoided Pete’s eyes entirely, swiftly swinging his legs back onto the bed. He pulled the heavy duvet up, covering himself completely from the neck down, only his head remaining visible on the pillow. He stared resolutely at the ceiling.
"Starting tomorrow," Karn spoke, his voice tight but controlled, refusing to look at Pete, "that. The hand. Before you begin work in my office. Every morning. Consider it… part of your duties." The flush on his face deepened, contrasting sharply with the crisp white pillowcase.
Pete blinked, processing the command. A daily ritual. Formalized devotion. "Roger that," he said quietly, the ingrained response automatic, relief washing over him despite the strangeness. The tension that had gripped Karn seemed to have evaporated, replaced by this abrupt, flustered retreat under the covers. He seemed… normal. His usual, commanding self, just blushing furiously.
"Now," Karn mumbled, still staring at the ceiling, "get back up here. And… hug me. Tight. All night." The gruffness couldn’t quite mask the underlying need.
The relief that flooded Pete was profound. The awkwardness, the fear, the crushing weight of the past week – it all seemed to dissipate. Karn was back. He scrambled to his feet, the plush carpet yielding under his weight. He quickly circled the bed and slid back under the cool sheets. Without hesitation, he moved close to Karn’s blanket-covered form, slipping an arm around him. He pulled him close, hugging him tightly, securely, just as instructed. Karn immediately relaxed into the embrace, a soft sigh escaping him. His head found its place against Pete’s shoulder, the frantic blush slowly receding from his skin. The steady rhythm of Karn’s breathing deepened, evening out almost immediately into the cadence of sleep. Pete held on, the warmth and solidity of Karn a deep comfort. The city’s glow painted soft patterns on the ceiling as the profound quiet of shared peace settled over the penthouse. Sleep claimed them both quickly, deeply, tangled together under the velvet canopy.
Sleep claimed them both quickly, deeply, tangled together under the velvet canopy. Pete woke to the faint thud of the penthouse gym door closing – Karn’s morning ritual already underway. The space beside him was empty, the sheets cool where Karn had lain, but the lingering warmth beneath Pete’s own skin felt like a gift. The heavy silence of the past week was blessedly absent, replaced by the low hum of the city and the comfortable memory of Karn relaxed in his arms.
He stretched, muscles pleasantly stiff, and padded silently across the plush carpet to the vast living area. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden stripes on the sleek furniture. Karn’s absence felt different now – an intermission, not an exile. He needed to tell someone. He grabbed the comm-unit from its dock on the minimalist console and sank onto the cool leather sofa.
"Pete? Everythin' alright, sugar?" His mom's voice, thick with sleep and worry, crackled instantly. "Karn okay? Heard the silence finally broke?"
"Yeah, Ma," Pete breathed, unable to suppress the smile spreading across his face. "He's… he's back. Like himself. Normal Karn." Relief made his voice light. "Just left for his workout. Quiet again, but… it’s different. Good quiet."
"Oh, thank goodness!" Relief flooded her tone. "What happened? What did you do, honey?"
"I just… I said I was sorry. Properly." Pete traced a seam on the sofa cushion, recalling the raw honesty spilling out in the dark. "Told him… told him he's real important to me. The most important." His cheeks warmed slightly. "Then… well, I kissed his hand. Told him I'd do my best to support him. Always." He paused, the next part feeling strangely intimate to share, yet crucial. "And… last night. He asked me. To hug him. Tight. While we slept. I just… held on."
Silence.
Then, a piercing, joyful scream ripped through the comm-unit, making Pete flinch and hold it away from his ear. "TARN! TARN, GET OVER HERE!" His mom yelled, her voice thick with elation. "YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW! HE FINALLY BECAME LESS STUPID! HE DID IT!"
Pete blinked, utterly bewildered. Brother-in-law?
"WHAT?!" Tarn's voice, slightly distant at first, then suddenly loud and clear right beside Mrs. Riverton, exploded with pure glee. "NO WAY! MY COUSIN ACTUALLY STARTED LEARNING? HE USED CHARM? WISELY? TO FLIRT WITH HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW? KARN'S FLIRTING?" His laugh was a delighted shriek.
"Exactly!" Pete’s mom crowed, her own laughter bubbling over. "Listen, Pete honey?" Her voice softened slightly, but amusement still danced through it. "Both of us know you're sittin' there right now, brow all scrunched up, wonderin' what the hell we're talkin' 'bout." She chuckled, a warm, knowing sound. "And bless your sweet, simple heart, we know you ain't clever enough to figure this puzzle out by yourself. Not yet, anyhow!"
Their shared laughter, his mother’s rich and Tarn’s high-pitched and hysterical, filled the penthouse living room, echoing off the glass and steel. It was a wave of pure, unadulterated mirth aimed squarely at his expense.
"Good luck, brother-in-law!" Tarn managed to gasp between laughs, his voice fading slightly as if he was already moving away. "You're gonna need it!"
The line went dead with a soft click. The sudden silence in the wake of their chaotic joy felt deafening. Pete stared at the blank screen of the comm-unit, his mind utterly blank. Brother-in-law? Flirting? Karn? Him?
"What the hell," he breathed, the words barely a whisper of utter confusion. The device slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering softly onto the expensive carpet. He slid down the smooth leather of the sofa, landing with a soft thud on his knees on the plush rug. He stared at the spot where the comm-unit lay. "What the hell were they even talkin' about?"
The comm-unit's blank screen stared back, reflecting Pete’s own stunned expression. He remained frozen on his knees on the plush carpet, the echo of Tarn’s gleeful "brother-in-law!" and his mom’s delighted shriek bouncing around his skull. Flirting? Him? Had he flirted? He replayed his own words to Karn: "You're everything." "I worship you." "Wanna be with you." Heat flooded his cheeks, hotter than any sunburn he'd gotten on the farm. Had that sounded like flirting? To Karn? The thought was terrifying.
The soft shush of the gym door opening cut through his spiraling panic. Pete flinched, scrambling to look casual, grabbing the comm-unit like it was evidence. Karn emerged into the living area, dripping sweat in a damp grey tank top and black running shorts that clung to his powerful thighs. A sheen covered his defined arms, his chest rising and falling steadily from exertion.
He stopped dead. His sharp eyes instantly pinned Pete kneeling on the floor by the sofa, eyes wide as saucers, clutching the comm-unit like a lifeline. Karn’s brow furrowed, the focused intensity of his workout shifting to wary confusion. "Pete?" His voice was rough, breathless. "What happened? What's wrong?" He took a step closer, droplets of sweat falling onto the pristine carpet.
Pete turned his head slowly, the movement stiff. He met Karn’s concerned gaze, his own filled with utter, clueless desperation. "Karn," he mumbled, the name thick on his tongue. "I… I just talked to Ma. And Tarn." He swallowed. "They… they were goin' on about somethin'. Crazy talk. Said stuff I completely didn’t understand."
He shook his head, genuinely bewildered, the comm-unit loose in his hand. "Ma was screamin'. Tarn was laughin' like a lunatic. They… they called me Tarn’s brother-in-law." He blinked up at Karn, searching for any sign of understanding. "What the hell do they even mean by that? Brother-in—"
"Shut UP, you IDIOTS!"
Karn’s roar was sudden, explosive. He ripped the sweat-soaked towel from around his neck and hurled it straight at Pete’s face. It hit with a wet slap, the heavy, damp fabric smelling sharply of salt and exertion, blinding Pete for a second.
Before Pete could even gasp, Karn had already spun on his heel. His face, already flushed from exercise, blazed a furious, mortified crimson that spread down his neck and across his bare shoulders. He didn't look back. He simply bolted, bare feet slapping hard against the polished floor as he fled towards the sanctuary of the shower room, disappearing behind the frosted glass door. The sharp click of the lock engaging echoed in the sudden, ringing silence.
Pete sat perfectly still, the damp towel plastered over his head and face. Karn’s sweat stung his eyes. His ears burned. The absurdity of the situation – kneeling on a million-dollar rug, reeking of Karn’s panic, utterly clueless – crashed over him. He slowly peeled the cold, wet towel off his face. He stared at the closed shower door, the sound of rushing water already filling the penthouse. "Brother-in-law?" he whispered again to the empty room, the words tasting foreign and terrifying. Why had that made Karn look like he wanted to spontaneously combust? The water roared, drowning out any hope of answers.
The water roared, drowning out any hope of answers. Pete remained slumped on the penthouse floor, Karn’s damp towel heavy in his hands, the sharp scent of sweat and panic clinging to the fabric. The locked shower door felt like a fortress wall. He scraped himself off the plush carpet, confusion warring with a familiar ache of inadequacy. Brother-in-law. The absurd, terrifying phrase ricocheted inside his skull. Why had it made Karn explode like that? What unseen landmine had he stepped on? He tossed the towel towards the laundry chute, missing by a foot. He needed air. Structure. Routine. Maybe the office would reset whatever this was.
He dressed mechanically in his simple Red Tag tunic and trousers, the familiar cotton scratchy against skin still humming with the memory of Karn’s warmth, Karn’s fury. By the time he’d gathered his work bag, the shower had stopped. Karn emerged moments later, hair damp, impeccably dressed in a charcoal-grey suit that screamed Purple Tag authority. His face was a mask of icy professionalism, the furious blush completely gone, replaced by a chilling, distant calm. He didn’t look at Pete. Not once. "Move," he commanded, the single word sharp as cracked ice, already striding towards the penthouse elevator. Pete scrambled to follow, the silence thick and brittle between them. The elevator descent felt endless, the mirrored walls reflecting Karn's rigid posture and Pete's own bewildered frown.
The walk through the corporate atrium was worse. Karn moved with predatory speed, his polished Oxfords clicking a rapid, angry rhythm on the marble floor. Purple Tags nodded deferentially; Red Tags averted their eyes. Pete kept half a step behind Karn’s right shoulder, the mandated distance feeling like miles today. He clutched his bag strap, knuckles white, trying to parse the shift from vulnerable warmth to this arctic fury overnight. Brother-in-law. The words throbbed in time with his pulse. Karn slammed his access card against the reader on his private office door on the 40th floor. The heavy door hissed open violently. "Inside. Now," he snapped, not breaking stride. Pete stepped through, the familiar scent of leather and ozone hitting him just as the door slammed shut behind him with a final, echoing thud. The lock engaged with a decisive click.
Karn whirled around, his eyes blazing with a cold fire Pete hadn't seen since the early days. He pointed a rigid finger at the floor directly before him. "Bag. Down. Collar. Now." Pete flinched, but obeyed instantly, dropping his bag and fumbling for the thin black collar nestled within, engraved with Karn’s Thorn. His fingers trembled slightly as he fastened it around his neck, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat flooding his face. Karn watched him, arms crossed, jaw clenched, radiating controlled fury. The silence was crushing. "Proceed," Karn stated, his voice devoid of any inflection. Pete knew the drill. He took a shaky breath, fingers moving to the fastenings of his tunic. The fabric felt suddenly heavy, restrictive. He stripped swiftly, efficiently, letting the grey garments pool around his ankles on the plush office carpet. The air conditioning raised goosebumps on his bare skin. He stepped out of the pile, standing fully exposed before Karn’s unreadable gaze.
He dropped smoothly to his knees, spreading them wide on the carpet. His hands went automatically behind his back, wrists crossed. He kept his spine straight, chin slightly lifted, gaze fixed on a point just below Karn’s sternum. His body betrayed him instantly; the vulnerability, the proximity to Karn after the night before, the sheer tension in the room – his cock thickened, hardening rapidly until it stood rigidly erect between his spread thighs, balls drawn tight. He ignored the hot flush climbing his neck, focusing on the formal phrasing drilled into him. "Red Tag Riverton, identification Tango-Seven-Alpha, reporting for duty, Sir." His voice sounded unnaturally steady in the silent office. "Ready to work under direct guidance from First Tier Purple Tag Executive Karn Thorne." Karn stared down at him, his expression glacial. He slowly extended his right hand, palm down, towards Pete’s bowed head.
Pete leaned forward, pressing his lips to the smooth skin of Karn’s knuckles. The kiss was brief, reverent, just as instructed, but the contact sent a jolt through him. Karn snatched his hand back instantly, as if scalded. "Today," Karn stated, his voice low and dangerously calm, turning away to walk towards his massive obsidian desk, "you will not work at your usual station behind the bookshelf." He didn't look back. "You will work on the main sofa. Entirely as you are. Without cover. For the entire shift." Pete froze, his breath catching. The main sofa sat prominently in the office's reception area, the first thing anyone saw when entering through that heavy door. Exposed. Naked. Hard. For everyone. Karn paused near his desk chair, finally glancing back, his cheeks flushed crimson despite his icy tone. "Consider it a consequence," he spat, the words tight, "for playing with my feelings. Excessively." He spun his chair around and dropped into it, his back now a rigid wall facing Pete. His ears burned a furious scarlet against his dark hair.
Pete remained kneeling, hands still locked behind his back, the plush carpet fibers pressing into his kneecaps. The cold air bit at his exposed skin. Playing with his feelings? What feelings? How? He replayed the penthouse moments: the hug, the hand kiss, Karn demanding to be held… and then "brother-in-law." His cock, still insistently hard, felt like a cruel joke. He murmured the words under his breath, barely a whisper lost in the vast room’s hum. "Don't understand… anything." Yet, beneath the confusion and the dread of exposure, a stubborn thread of instinct held. Karn’s fury felt brittle, temporary. Like a summer storm. He’d calm down. He always did. Pete shifted his weight slightly, focusing on the immediate task. Karn’s assignment. The data analysis waiting in his bag. That, at least, he understood. That, he could do. He just needed to endure the sofa until Karn’s mood shifted. He kept his eyes on Karn’s tense back, waiting for the first command.