BAD LIAR - VEGASPETE ( ENGLISH VERSION)

#7 The lost son.

Upon entering the house, my body pulsed with the pain of recent confrontations. The nightclub, a temporary battlefield, now gave way to the relative safety of my home. Pete was in the living room, his expression shifting from tension to relief upon seeing me enter.

"Vegas, are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

I nodded, trying to mask the extent of the injuries. "Just scratches, Pete. Nothing that won't heal with time."

However, the pain was undeniable, and my clothes were stained with blood. Pete, sensing my reluctance to admit the severity of the situation, took me by the arm and guided me to the bedroom.

"Let's take care of this before it gets worse," he insisted, his voice gentle, revealing genuine concern.

The room offered a refuge, a sanctuary within familiar walls. Pete, despite lacking medical experience, seemed at ease as he gathered supplies to tend to my wounds. His movements were careful, his attention focused on each bandage and compress.

As he worked, the comfortable silence of the room was broken only by the murmur of his voice, asking if it hurt or if I needed anything else. I felt momentarily vulnerable, a rare sensation for someone accustomed to controlling every aspect of their life.

"Pete, you don't have to do this. I have my medical team to take care of me," I said, trying to maintain a certain emotional distance.

He looked at me, his eyes revealing a trace of determination. "You may be the boss, Vegas, but that doesn't mean you have to bear it all alone. Sometimes, you need to let someone take care of you."

His words touched a sensitive chord within me, one that rarely allowed itself to be struck. In that moment, I realized that, despite all the power games and impenetrable facades, Pete was there for me, offering more than his skill in bandaging.

As he tended to my wounds, the silence between us was comfortable. It was as if the battles outside could not penetrate the safety of this space. The touch of his hands was gentle, contrasting with the brutal world we had left behind.

When he finished, our gazes met once again. There was no need for words; the connection between us was deeper than any dialogue could express. Pete remained by my side, an unexpected guardian in a world full of uncertainties.

"Thank you, Pete," I finally said, acknowledging the unexpected kindness amidst the chaos. "You're more than I expected."

He smiled, a smile carrying the weight of the battles fought and a silent promise that even in the shadows, we could find a place of safety and mutual support.

The room was enveloped in a tension-filled silence, shadows dancing on the walls as silent witnesses to all that had transpired. Pete and I exchanged glances, the unspoken complexities between us echoing in the air.

For a few seconds, our gazes met, intense communication passing between us. Amidst the turbulence of our lives, there was something more, something we could no longer ignore. The accumulated tension, the battles fought, and the carefully constructed boundaries were about to dissipate.

It was then that I approached slowly, the space between us diminishing with each calculated step. Pete, still with a serious expression, did not retreat. It was as if we both knew that this was the point of no return.

Our lips met in a delicate kiss, a gentle touch that defied the lines we had established. At first, it was a hesitant gesture, a silent acknowledgment of what had always lurked in the shadows. However, as we surrendered to the once-hidden desire, the kiss became more intense, the flames of desire burning between us.