“...so then we start working on the cuffs, and this girl’s trying to talk me into the quarter inch, when I specifically asked for the half inch, and she’s just not listening to me at all, so I tell her I want to talk to her boss. You know what she says back? ‘I am the boss.’ So then...”

“Carter.”

“It was just frustrating, I mean, I’m hiring them...”

“Carter!”

“What?”

Hunter raises one eyebrow. “Please tell me you didn’t just come here to talk about your suit.”

Carter rolls his eyes, sighing as he pops open the styrofoam container and dumps the food onto one of Hunter’s dishes. “Fine,” he says. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You called me,” Hunter says. “I figured you had something on your mind.” Carter hands over his plate without a word and Hunter sticks it in the microwave. Carter opens the cabinet by the refrigerator, wanting glasses, but... they aren’t there. Hunter nudges his arm and nods to the cabinet on the other side of the island.

“Not used to this place,” Carter mutters. “I guess I just... I don’t know. Things are weird with me and Scott right now.” He fills both glasses with ice and lemonade from a pitcher in the fridge, then hands one over. Hunter sips it thoughtfully and doesn’t answer. “You gonna say something? Pass judgement on my many mistakes?”

“You haven’t given me anything to judge yet,” Hunter says. “Get the food. Silverware’s by the sink.” Then he turns on his heel and heads for the living room, leaving Carter to wait for the microwave to beep. He separates the food onto two plates, grabs a couple forks, and follows.

They settle on the sofa with plates on their laps, and Carter’s hit with a wave of nostalgia so hard it hurts. They used to do this every night, the two of them, back when they had to because they couldn’t afford better. Carter feels like a lifetime has passed since then, like he’s not even the same person.

Hunter pokes at his plate with his fork. “You always give me all the broccoli. Vegetables are good for you, you know.”

Then again, Carter thinks, some things never change.

“So tell me about you and Scott. What’s weird? Specifically.”

Carter hesitates, picking up his drink and taking a long sip. He doesn’t really know how to say it so that Hunter will understand. He’s not sure he wants Hunter to understand, but...he has to talk to someone. Last night can’t happen again. He can’t fall into a habit of using regularly.

“Well, I guess...we haven’t really been, you know...talking,” Carter says reluctantly.

Hunter stares at him, unimpressed. “Like, you’re fighting? He’s giving you the silent treatment?”

Carter shakes his head. “No, we haven’t even argued about anything. I just...I don’t know, Hunter, it’s just weird, and I don’t know how to make it not weird again.”

“Cryptic. Wonderful. This’ll be a productive day,” Hunter quips. “Gonna have to give me a little more than that, babe. Come on, do you remember when the weirdness started? Did something happen?”

“We had this... like... kind of intense thing the other day...” Carter says, twirling his fork in his fingers. When he finally looks up to see Hunter’s face, Hunter’s staring at him with raised eyebrows and a bored expression. “I invited him to the set of my music video, and I fucked him in the bathroom. There. You happy?”

“Is he not cool with having sex in public or something? Did you get caught?”

“No, it was just... intense. Like, I grabbed him, and I... I think I yelled at him? I don’t know. I was just... so fucking mad, and he kept apologizing, and I felt like such an asshole the morning after.”

“Why were you yelling at him?” Hunter asks incredulously.

“I thought he was flirting with this guy,” Carter mumbles. “A dancer. But he wasn’t. The guy just flirts with everybody. It wasn’t Scott’s fault.”

“I thought you said you didn’t fight,” Hunter says under his breath. “Jesus. Just apologize.”

Carter sighs heavily. “I think I did.”

“You think you did? Carter, I swear to god... If you want to talk, let’s talk. If not, I’ve got zombies on the DVR. Your choice.”

It takes Carter too long to decide, and Hunter’s already reaching for the remote when he finally blurts out, “I went out with Ziggy and Cass last night.”

Hunter lets out a breath, stays turned away from Carter. “Bet that was fun.”

“It was,” Carter tells him. “Morning after? Not so much.”

“What did you take?” Hunter asks quietly.

“Just some X. We were dancing. It was fine, but, you know... Haven’t done it in a while.” Carter hesitates. Hunter still isn’t looking at him, staring straight ahead at the blank TV screen. “I did a few lines with Ziggy a couple days ago.”

“You have to be careful now,” Hunter says.

“I know that,” Carter snaps. “I’m being careful. I just needed to relax.”

Hunter finally turns and gives Carter a smile. “Just call me next time, okay?”

“You never liked Ziggy.”

“Never gave me a reason to,” Hunter says simply.

“Never gave you a reason not to either, but you-”

“I trust my instincts on some things, Carter. Your opinion isn’t the final word.” Carter wants to argue with that, but it’s an old fight, one they’ve had enough times to know that no one comes out a winner at the end of it. He takes a bite instead, and Hunter uses the silence to ask, “What does Scott think about your new old friends?”

Carter swallows hard. “He doesn’t really know. I mean...he doesn’t ask.”

Hunter’s eyes narrow. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There’s a lot of things I’m not telling you.”

Hunter throws his hands up, almost upsetting his plate onto the floor. “Fine. Think of the thing you don’t want to tell me the most and give me that one. If that doesn’t work, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find a new therapist. Or you might have to figure this shit out on your own.”

Carter stares down at his lap. His food is getting cold, but he doesn’t really want it anymore. His voice is unfamiliar to his own ears when he speaks, hardly more than a whisper. “Do you remember... when I would put my hands around your throat?” He swallows, his own throat feeling thick and his tongue feeling clumsy in his mouth. “Do you remember what it was like, when we fucked, and you were...”

“Of course I remember,” Hunter answers calmly. He’s not shouting or anything, but his voice sounds far too loud.

“I grabbed Scott’s neck, the other day. There were... bruises. I don’t know. It was so... much, you know? It was so much. But he... he didn’t resist.” Carter’s voice lowers even further. “He never resists.”

Carter waits for Hunter’s response, braces himself for even the most cutting line, but nothing comes. Finally, he looks up, and sees Hunter studying him, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips tight and thin. It’s Hunter’s worrying face, and Carter wants to explain, wants to soothe that expression away.

“I just feel like I went too far, but he doesn’t seem to think so.”

“I’m assuming you haven’t talked about this with Scott.” Carter shakes his head, and Hunter huffs. “That should’ve been your first step, you idiot.”

“I can’t talk to him about this. I don’t even know-”

“You have to talk to him about this! You need lines. Boundaries. Limits!” Hunter cries, pushing his plate onto the coffee table so he can stand up and pace. “You can’t be the one flying blind, Carter. Not with someone like Scott.”

“What does that even mean? ‘Someone like Scott.’”

Hunter shrugs, looking uncomfortable for the first time in their conversation. “I mean, I’ve only met him a few times. I don’t really know him. But he just seems... you know...” He finally stops and gives Carter a frank look. “Carter, I’m your ex-boyfriend. I sized him up, all right? Tell me you haven’t done the same to all the guys I’ve slept with since we broke up.”

Carter thinks a moment and then nods, conceding the point. “Fine. So what did you find out about him in your sizing-up?”

Hunter lifts an eyebrow. “He’s your type.” Carter opens his mouth to protest-not that Scott isn’t his type, but that he already knew that. “Oh come on, Carter, he’s just like every other pretty, wide-eyed little thing you’ve ever hooked up with...except I get the feeling he might want more from you. More than you think.”

Carter’s eyes narrow. “You think I’m not enough for him?”

“I think you haven’t even fucking discussed what ‘enough’ is!” Hunter sighs and lowers his voice. “Carter...back when we were together...I mean, it was the first time. For everything, you know? We were young and stupid and didn’t know the right words for anything, and that was okay, because how were we supposed to know better? We were still learning. But there’s no excuse for that kind of ignorance now. It’s not responsible. It’s not safe.”

“I can handle it. I did with you.”

“Scott’s different,” Hunter says, but Carter just gives him a blank look. They can’t be that different. Hunter rolls his eyes and speaks to the ceiling. “God save me from dumbass Doms.”

Carter glares. He knows when he’s being insulted. Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

“He’s submissive, Carter - way more than I ever was. More... completely than I ever was. It’s fucking obvious. He wants you to take control. He trusts you. And that kind of thing can get real intense, real fast. What the hell have you been doing with him?”

Carter’s listening to what Hunter’s saying, he is, but a part of him is stuck on that term, that label, and he can’t move past it just yet. He knows people who use those words, who live that life, and he’s not judging them, really, but...that’s not Scott. That’s not who they are, what they do. Scott doesn’t call him “sir,” doesn’t have a collar. Carter doesn’t have a dungeon in his basement, and he never will. It’s just a little bit of rough sex. Maybe a little rougher than what Carter’s done in the past, but...it’s not their lifestyle.

“It’s not like that, we’re not... kinky. I just kind of...I don’t know, I do what I want. I like making him calm. That’s how it started...he was freaking out and I didn’t know what to do, and I remembered how you used to get sometimes when I would grab your neck, so I tried it and it worked. See, this is really your fault!” Carter says, going for sarcasm on the last line. It doesn’t quite work.

“Oh, that’s mature. What, you just decided to choke him and see if he liked it? That’s not how it fucking works, Carter.”

“You weren’t there. You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand. Obviously.” Hunter pins him with a hard stare. “God, does he even have a safeword?”

“I... We don’t...”

Hunter’s mouth drops open. He shoves Carter’s shoulder, hard. He’s angrier than Carter’s seen him in a long time. “You know better than that, you fucking idiot! What if something went wrong? What if you went too far and couldn’t tell? What if he passed out, or-or died? Did you even think for one second before letting your cock take over?”

Hunter moves to shove him again but Carter catches his wrist and holds him tight. “This isn’t my fault,” he hisses. “He has no fucking idea what-”

“Neither do you,” Hunter shouts in his face. He wrenches out of Carter’s hold and paces the length of the room again, running both hands through his hair. “I didn’t know you were this fucking stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” Carter protests. “Scott’s not like that. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Let’s just recap what we’ve got here, shall we?” Hunter asks. He ticks off the points on his fingers. “You’re not talking, especially not about all the extracurricular activities you’ve been up to without him, and then you come home and engage in completely unsafe, non-negotiated kinky sex, just in time for some more not-talking. Oh no, nothing wrong with this at all. You two are the picture of happiness. Please invite me to the wedding.”

Carter pushes to his feet and stalks around the coffee table. Hunter lifts his chin and doesn’t back down, so Carter gets closer, close enough that Hunter has to look up to maintain eye contact. “I didn’t come here for a fucking lecture.”

“No, you came here because you needed help. And you do.”

“You have no right to tell me how to be in a relationship.”

“I have every right to tell you you’re a fucking asshole,” Hunter snaps. “If you can’t be safe with him, then it isn’t working, and maybe you just have to be honest with yourself and get the hell out before someone gets hurt.”

Carter takes a few steps forward, and Hunter matches him until he backs up into the wall. The sudden stop seems to shock him, and Carter sees his hard expression falter. Carter steps closer and puts a hand on Hunter’s shoulder so he can’t slip away.

“Don’t touch me,” Hunter says, his voice firm and calm and quiet, even though it carries as if he’d screamed it. He doesn’t drop Carter’s gaze, and Carter’s lip curls into a sneer.

“You’re jealous,” he says.

“Of what?”

“A little late for regrets, isn’t it, Hunter?” Carter says smoothly. It’s so clear to him now, so obvious. Hunter’s been this way ever since Scott came into the picture, over-analyzing and calculating everything.

“Get your hands off me,” Hunter says, louder this time.

“If it’s not my voice you’re jealous of, it’s my career. If it’s not my career, it’s my boyfriend. At least now I know he’s not your type.” Carter leans in, close enough to feel Hunter’s quick breaths on his cheek. “What was it you said?” he asks softly, running his finger gently along Hunter’s jaw. “He’s like you? Submissive?”

Pain flares across Carter’s cheek. He catches Hunter’s wrist in his hand without thinking, twists his fingers tight. Hunter struggles but Carter’s stronger.

“You little bitch,” Carter spits.

Hunter elbows him in the stomach, hard enough to loosen Carter’s grip. “Get the fuck off me,” he shouts, squirming out from between Carter and the wall. He crosses the room, puts several pieces of furniture between them. “This is what you did to him, isn’t it? Got pissed off over some stupid thing and took it out on his throat. That’s not kink, Carter. That’s abuse.”

“‘Cause you know everything, don’t you?” Carter sneers. “Your way is the only way. You think you’re so fucking perfect. Well, let me ask you something, diva. How many boyfriends have you kept? How many have there been since me, again? Can you even remember their names?”

Carter catches the brief flash of hurt in Hunter’s eyes, but Hunter recovers quickly. “You’re not going to make me cry or hate myself or what-the-fuck-ever. I’m not him. I’m not your fucking pet.” Hunter sets his shoulders and lifts his chin, and Carter knows it’s his way of trying to look taller, but it doesn’t work. “I don’t want you back,” Hunter snaps, “and I never will. If this is who you’re gonna be, you can just get the fuck out of my house.”

Carter scoffs but he goes to get his things. He’s tempted to overturn his abandoned plate all over the floor, but he’d have to go out of his way to make a mess, and he doesn’t want to give Hunter the satisfaction. At the front door, he turns around. Hunter’s still standing in the living room, unmoving.

“Let me tell you something I’ve learned, Hunterley,” Carter calls to him. “There’s a reason we broke up. And I wasn’t it.”

He doesn’t wait to hear Hunter’s answer and slams the front door behind him.