Chapter 33: IT Diagnosis
Karn remained a frozen statue behind his obsidian desk, his back rigid, offering no guidance, no reprieve. Pete’s knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the sofa cushion. The data streams on his screen blurred into meaningless static. Exposed. Entire shift. The air conditioning bit at his bare skin, a constant, humiliating reminder. His cock, a traitorous presence fueled by Karn’s proximity and the sheer, terrifying vulnerability of his position, remained stubbornly erect. He tried to focus on the lines of code, forcing his breathing steady, in, out, ignoring the heat flooding his face, the frantic drumming of his heart against his ribs. Just work. Do the work. Karn will calm down.
Before Pete could even attempt to dive back into the financial projections, a sharp, decisive rap echoed through the heavy silence of the office. Knock-knock-knock.
Pete flinched violently, his head snapping towards the door, then instantly swiveling back towards Karn’s unmoving back. His breath hitched. Protocol demanded whoever knocked announce themselves through the comm. No one did. Karn didn’t react. Didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. The knock came again, harder, more insistent. KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.
"Pete." Karn’s voice cut through the tension, flat and cold, still facing away. "Answer it."
Ice water flooded Pete’s veins. Answer it? Like this? Naked? Kneeling…? He scrambled off the sofa, his bare feet slapping softly on the plush carpet. He couldn’t kneel at the door. He had to stand. To be seen. Fully. Panic clawed its way up his throat. He shot another desperate look at Karn’s back, but it was an implacable wall. Taking a shaky breath, Pete walked towards the imposing door, each step amplifying his exposure. The cool metal of the handle felt alien under his palm. He pulled it open.
Silas Malfoy stood framed in the doorway, a chaotic monument of technology. He was juggling a massive, high-end laptop under one arm, a large external monitor precariously balanced against his torso, tangled power cables snaking around his neck and shoulders, and clutched what looked like a docking station and an external drive in his other hand. His swept-back hair was slightly askew, cheeks flushed with exertion, but his sharp-featured face was split in its usual manic grin. "Haaaaaay!" he chirped, his voice unnervingly loud in the hushed corridor.
He didn’t wait for an invitation. Before Pete could even process the absurdity of the load Silas was carrying single-handedly, Silas barrelled past him into the office, the smell of ozone and warm plastic trailing in his wake. "Thorny! Petey! Greetings and salivations!" He beelined for the low desk Karn had indicated earlier, near the sofa. With a grunt and a clatter, he dumped the entire armload onto its pristine surface. The monitor wobbled precariously. "Phew! Beastly haul, right? But essential! Utterly essential!" He straightened, adjusting his impeccably tailored purple-tag suit jacket, completely unfazed by the chaotic pile of tech or the environment.
His bright, slightly unfocused eyes swept the room, landing on Karn’s rigid back, then snapping to Pete, who stood frozen just inside the now-closed door, utterly exposed. Silas’s gaze travelled downwards, taking in Pete’s nakedness, lingering pointedly on the undeniable, rigid evidence of Pete’s persistent arousal. A slow, wide grin spread across Silas’s face, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "Ohhhh-ho!" he laughed, a high-pitched, delighted sound. "Right! Right! Morning wood! Totally natural circadian rhythm thing! The little soldier’s just doing his dawn patrol! Stands to attention! I get it, Pete-man, I get it!" He waved a dismissive hand, chuckling. "Happens to the best of us. Well, some of us," he added with a conspiratorial wink towards Karn, who still hadn't moved.
Then, with terrifying swiftness and no warning, Silas stepped forward. Before Pete could even register the movement, Silas leaned down and pushed his head – his actual forehead – firmly against Pete’s erect cock. It wasn't aggressive, not exactly. It was more like… an enthusiastic, bizarre greeting. A nudge. "Hi there, Baby-Pete!" Silas chirped directly at Pete's groin, his voice muffled slightly by the contact. "Rise and shine, little buddy! Big day ahead!"
The jolt of Silas’s forehead against his erection was profoundly alien. Pete recoiled violently, stumbling back a step, his spine hitting the cool office door. Shock paralyzed him, breath trapped in his chest. Silas just straightened up, beaming as if he’d given a perfectly normal handshake. "Right! Business time!" he declared, utterly unperturbed, turning back to the chaotic pile of tech on the low table near the sofa.
With startling efficiency, Silas attacked the mess. Cables flew, ports clicked, the laptop screen flickered to life. He muttered rapid-fire technical gibberish under his breath, a stream of consciousness about drivers and firmware. Then, squatting beside the sturdy wooden table, he produced a small, unmarked toolkit from his jacket pocket. "Observe!" he commanded, though neither Pete nor Karn was really watching. Pete remained plastered against the door, mortified; Karn was a silent monolith at his distant desk. Silas jammed thin metal shims into the table's fixed leg joints, hammering them gently with the handle of a screwdriver. Tap-tap-tap. "Non-adjustable?" he scoffed cheerfully, giving the table a vigorous shake. "A mere suggestion!" With a flourish, he pronounced it perfectly level at sofa-armrest height. "Voilà! Ergonomic excellence!"
He dusted his hands off theatrically. "All set for sofa-based productivity, Petey-pie! Data crunching awaits!" He flashed another wide grin towards Karn’s back. "Thorny, my assistance is concluded! A pleasure, as always!" Karn didn’t turn. A muscle ticked in his jaw, visible even from across the room. "Thanks, Silas," Karn bit out, the words tight and utterly devoid of warmth, still staring rigidly at his own screen.
"Bye bye!" Silas chirped, pivoting towards the door where Pete still stood frozen. He paused right in front of him. His eyes dropped again, a flicker of manic amusement crossing his face. Before Pete could react, Silas reached out. His fingers closed lightly around Pete’s still-hard cock and gave it a quick, teasing shake – like shaking a ketchup bottle. "See you again, Baby Pete!" he giggled. Then, turning on his heel, he did a little skipping dance-step out of the office, humming tunelessly, leaving the door wide open behind him.
Pete stood rigid, the phantom pressure of Silas’s fingers lingering, the bizarre greeting echoing in his mind. His face burned crimson. The empty doorway gaped, a potential portal for anyone passing in the corridor to see him, naked and exposed. He couldn’t move. Karn’s voice, cold as cracked ice, shattered the stunned silence. "Close the door, Riverton. And get to work." Karn didn't glance up from his terminal, fingers already flying across the keyboard. "The sofa. Now."
The command snapped Pete out of his daze. He lunged forward, slamming the heavy door shut with a thud that vibrated through the floor, quickly engaging the lock. The sound felt final, sealing him back into Karn’s icy displeasure and his own profound humiliation. He shuffled back towards the sofa, the plush carpet prickling against his soles. Silas’s weirdness was a buzzing hornet trapped in his skull alongside Karn’s fury and the persistent, confusing thrum of his own traitorous body. He sank onto the sofa cushion, pulling the newly positioned table closer. The laptop screen glowed, displaying complex financial schematics Silas had pre-loaded. The cold air bit his skin. He stared at the data, lines blurring. Brother-in-law? Playing with feelings? Baby Pete? His cock, momentarily startled by Silas’s shake, began to thicken again against the edge of the table. Karn typed relentlessly behind him, a relentless counterpoint to the chaos in Pete's head. He forced his trembling fingers onto the keyboard. Just work. Do the work. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the frantic clicking of Karn's keys and the low hum of the machines.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the frantic clicking of Karn's keys and the low hum of the machines. Pete pressed his knuckles against his temples, trying to force the swirling chaos – "brother-in-law," Silas's forehead nudge, Karn's icy fury – out of his mind. He stared at the complex financial models on Silas’s laptop screen, the numbers swimming before his eyes like ants. He took a deep, shivering breath, the cool office air raising goosebumps on his bare skin. Just focus. Ignore everything else. Work. He began typing, slowly at first, then with growing determination, wrestling with the formulas, losing himself in the intricate dance of projections and variables. Time blurred into the rhythm of keystrokes and the soft whir of the laptop fan. His traitorous body, the persistent ache of arousal, faded to a dull, almost manageable background thrum.
Sunlight tracked slowly across the polished mahogany floor. Pete was deep inside a nested formula when Karn’s voice cut through the quiet. "Pete." It wasn't warm, but it wasn't the cracking ice of before. It was clipped. Functional. "Take your break. Now."
Relief washed over Pete, a physical release of tension he hadn't realized he’d held. He swiveled eagerly on the sofa cushion, a grateful, slightly dopey smile forming on his lips as he turned towards Karn. "Yessir! Thanks, Karn, I–" The words died instantly. Karn wasn't looking at his face. Karn was staring with wide, horrified eyes, his face flooding a deep, mortified crimson. His gaze was locked lower. Much lower.
Pete instinctively followed Karn’s line of sight, his own eyes dropping down his naked torso. His cock, which had receded somewhat during intense focus, was now fully, rigidly erect. Again. The movement of turning on the sofa had shifted him, and the thick shaft pointed directly, unerringly, towards Karn’s face across the room. Like an accusation. Like a demand.
"Wh–?" Pete stammered, heat exploding across his own face and chest.
"YOU PERVERTED IDIOT!" Karn roared. He snatched the large velvet cushion from beside him on the sofa and hurled it across the room with surprising force. It hit Pete square in the chest, a soft, heavy thud that knocked the breath out of him. "SOFTEN THAT THING! NOW! BEFORE I CUT IT OFF!"
The sheer, unexpected violence in Karn’s voice, the raw disgust twisting his usually composed features, struck Pete like a physical blow. Shame, hot and corrosive, surged through him. He yelped, scrambling backwards on the sofa, instinctively covering himself with both hands. "S-Sorry! Sir! Karn! I didn't–" Karn’s furious glare silenced him. Pete scrambled off the sofa, crouching low, shielding himself as he half-ran, half-stumbled towards the discreet door leading to Karn’s private en-suite bathroom. He slammed it shut behind him, locking it with trembling fingers, leaning his forehead against the cool wood.
He slid down the door, landing hard on the tiled floor, gasping. The stark white bathroom felt like a tomb. "Why?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "Why's he so damn mad now? He sees it like this all the damn time! For work! Today... yesterday... at his room..." He squeezed his eyes shut, Karn’s disgusted expression burning behind his eyelids. "Perverted idiot." The words stung. His cock throbbed insistently against his clenched fist, a humiliating counterpoint to his misery. The mix of shame, confusion, and the relentless physical pressure was unbearable. "Stupid... stupid thing," he choked out, his hand moving almost frantically over his aching erection. "Just... soften... gotta make it stop..." It was crude, desperate, fueled by panic and Karn’s command echoing in his head. Soften it now. He climaxed quickly, violently, biting his lip hard to stifle any sound, thick spurts hitting the pristine white tiles between his spread legs. He flushed crimson, wiping himself roughly with a handful of toilet paper before mopping the mess off the floor, his movements jerky and ashamed. He washed his hands vigorously under cold water, staring blankly at his flushed reflection. Clean. But far from okay.
Taking a shuddering breath, Pete unlocked the bathroom door and stepped back into the office. Karn was standing now, facing the vast windows, his back rigid. He turned slowly as Pete emerged. His face was still deeply flushed, a hectic red staining his sharp cheekbones and neck, his expression a volatile mixture of fury, embarrassment, and something else Pete couldn't name. He watched Pete, his gaze intense, unreadable.
Without hesitation, Pete walked straight towards Karn. He stopped a few feet away and sank smoothly to his knees on the plush carpet. The movement was deliberate, practiced. Then he leaned forward, placing his palms flat on the floor, and lowered his forehead to rest on the carpet directly in front of Karn’s polished Oxfords. It was the deepest, most formal bow, utter prostration. He held the position for a long moment, the scent of expensive wool and leather filling his senses, the cool air chilling his bare back. Slowly, he raised his head just enough to speak, his voice low, thick with confused sincerity, but devoid of any subservient whine. Only earnest bewilderment. "Sir. Karn. Please." He met Karn’s stunned gaze directly. "I beg you, explain it to me. Tell me what I did wrong. What happened. What all this... this anger... means." He swallowed, the vulnerability raw in his eyes. "Because I swear, Karn... I'm too stupid to understand. I don't know."
Karn stared down at Pete, fists clenched at his sides, his face still flushed that furious, mortified crimson. Pete’s raw plea hung in the air – earnest, bewildered, exposing his utter lack of comprehension. Karn opened his mouth, perhaps to yell again, perhaps to finally spit out some impossible explanation. The words died unformed.
A shrill, discordant ringtone – the generic corporate chime Pete never changed – shattered the brittle silence. It blared from his discarded work bag near the sofa. Pete flinched. Karn’s eyes snapped towards the sound, then back to Pete, a fresh wave of irritation tightening his jaw.
"Answer it," Karn commanded, his voice tight with suppressed rage. "Quickly."
Pete scrambled towards his bag, the movement awkward from his kneeling position. He fumbled inside, fingers clumsy with nerves, finally yanking out the vibrating device. His mother’s picture flashed on the screen. Relief warred with dread. "Ma?" he answered, pressing the phone to his ear, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor near Karn’s shoes. "Everythin' okay? Kinda talkin' with Karn about somethin' important right now..."
The voice that crackled back wasn't his mother’s gentle drawl. It was Tarn, high-pitched and brimming with manic glee. "Important matter?!" Tarn practically shrieked through the speaker. Pete instinctively held the phone slightly away from his ear. "Ooooh! Did my cousin Karn finally confess his love to you, brother-in-law? Did he? IS IT HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!"
Pete’s jaw dropped open. A silent gasp locked in his throat. The words echoed obscenely loud in the pristine office. He saw Karn’s polished Oxfords shift slightly, the only movement in his peripheral vision. Pete’s gaze flicked up.
Karn stood utterly rigid. Not a muscle moved. The furious crimson that had stained his neck and cheeks moments before seemed to ignite, flooding upwards like spilled ink, consuming his entire face. It reached his scalp, turning his ears into bright, burning beacons. He looked like he’d been flash-frozen mid-rage, coated in pure mortification.
Pete’s fingers went numb. The phone slipped from his grasp, clattering loudly onto the polished mahogany floor. It bounced once, landing face-up near Karn’s immobile feet. The call was still connected.
Tarn’s voice, tinny but crystal clear, bubbled cheerfully out of the speaker. "Brother-in-law? You still there? Hey, I don't get why you're so clueless! Karn’s feelings are written all over his face! Like, super obvious! Seriously, Pete, I bet you knew nothing until my dumb cousin finally opened his mouth, right? He always has to say it first!" Tarn paused, seemingly waiting. "Pete? Hello-o?"
Then, Pete’s mother’s voice, laced with laughter, cut in. "Tarn, you menace! Hang up! Let the newlyweds have their private, lovely time! Go on, off!"
The last sound through the speaker was a burst of shared, delighted laughter – his mother’s warm chuckle tangled with Tarn’s hysterical cackling. Then, a decisive click.
Silence.
Absolute, crushing silence.
The dropped phone lay on the gleaming floor, screen darkening. Karn remained a statue painted scarlet, staring blindly ahead, his breathing shallow. Pete knelt frozen, the words "brother-in-law," "confess his love," and "newlyweds" ricocheting inside his empty skull like shrapnel. The city hummed distantly beyond the windows, indifferent to the cataclysm within the office.