Carter’s been sitting on the beach so long his face is starting to burn, and he sighs at the sun just now setting into the ocean. He has to be on TV tomorrow. The makeup people are going to kill him.

He hadn’t meant to fight with Hunter. But then again, they never had, not even at the very end when it was starting to become obvious that it was over. It’s just...Hunter has never been able to leave things alone. He thinks everything through, every facet and angle, and talking to him makes Carter do the same. He’s been here for hours now, watching the waves and thinking, but it hasn’t helped. Things are just as unclear as they were this morning, just as confusing. He needs to talk to Scott. He needs Scott to explain - if he even understands himself. They need to clear the air, and that’s kind of fucking scary. What if... What if they aren’t right for each other? What if Hunter was right about that, too?

He lets his head fall forward onto his knees and closes his eyes. This can’t have been a mistake. They’re right. They work. They love each other. Whatever’s wrong, whatever’s weird...they can fix it. If only he can drag himself off this beach and go do it.

Just then, his phone sounds in his pocket, breaking him out of his thoughts. It’s Isaac, texting him. Where are you?

Carter loves Isaac, and he’s glad Isaac is part of his band, but... they don’t really hang out. Carter gives his phone a befuddled look and types out, beach. why?

Scott, comes Isaac’s reply only a few seconds later.

Everything freezes for a second, and if Carter has ever doubted his feelings for Scott, the horrified chill that goes through him in that moment proves otherwise. He swallows hard and forces his fingers to move. Why what’s wrong is he ok???

Sort of, can you just come home, Isaac sends back.

Carter’s already on his feet, tripping through the sand in his hurry to get back to the car. He sends a quick on my way and shoves his phone in his pocket, not waiting for another reply. Hunter’s right, he is a fucking horrible boyfriend, sitting here on the fucking beach all day long when Scott needed him.

Isaac’s not there when he gets home, and Carter hurries through the house, poking his head in the living room and kitchen, and even outside by the pool, before taking the stairs two at a time. Scott’s in their bed, blanket pulled up to his ears, sleeping. Carter lets out a huge sigh of relief. He decides to let Scott sleep a bit longer and ducks into the bathroom quietly to wash his face, but the bathroom smells... fucking awful, like a house party, but just in this room.

He flips on the light and sees an empty bottle in the sink, and Scott’s blanket strewn across the floor, along with a damp towel. Carter hangs them up on the hooks on the wall, hoping they’ll dry out and stop smelling, before turning back to the sink. He picks up the bottle and stares blankly at the label, then looks out the door at Scott, passed out in the bed. Fuck. Fuck.

Scott’s always liked his alcohol. Carter has, too. He’s never said a word to anyone about how much they chose to drink, because he’d feel like a fucking hypocrite if he did. But now that he’s thinking about it...maybe this time, he should have made an exception. Bits and pieces start to fall into place in his head, almost too fast to follow - the look on Scott’s ex-girlfriend’s face whenever they would go out barhopping. What Ziggy had said, about Scott hugging the bar, never turning down a drink from anyone. His own rapidly diminishing alcohol cabinet, which he’s just sort of been not thinking about for a while now. It adds up. It really does.

He sets the bottle down again, carefully, and goes back into the bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed. Scott doesn’t even stir as Carter’s weight shifts the mattress. He’s on his stomach, his head turned to the side, and his hair is falling over his eyes. Carter reaches out and tucks it back behind his ear, as gently as he can. Scott’s eyes are shadowed, either bruised or smeared with makeup, Carter honestly can’t tell. Carter knows Scott’s prone to bouts of insomnia, but he’d thought Scott had been sleeping pretty well lately. Or drinking himself to sleep, says a sly voice in his head. Now that he’s made the connections, he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t take it back. He shakes his head, hardly able to believe he’s only just getting this now. How could he not have known?

He strokes his fingers along Scott’s jaw, then up over his cheek. “Baby,” he whispers. He’s reluctant to wake Scott when he’s sleeping so peacefully, but they need to talk. They need to. He touches Scott’s face more firmly and says, “Scott. Baby, wake up.”

Scott’s long eyelashes flutter against his cheek. Carter moves his hand to Scott’s shoulder and shakes him a little, and then Scott’s eyes fly open, wide and dark and almost manic-looking.

“Carter!” he says, his voice rough. “Carter.”

“Hey, Scott,” Carter says softly.

“I missed you,” Scott replies. Carter pets the side of his face again.

“I know, baby.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. He’s never been good at this. Talking about other people’s relationships, about love in general, yes. About his own...not so much. “I think... I think we need to talk about some things.”

Scott’s eyes immediately go shuttered, and Carter hates himself for putting that look on Scott’s face. Scott shuts people out all the time, but not him. Never him.

“About what?” Scott asks quietly.

Carter shuffles through the blankets until he finds Scott’s hand, holding on, rubbing his thumb over Scott’s wrist in slow strokes. How do you do this? How do you tell someone you love there’s something wrong with them? Carter believes in love, the real, pure, unconditional kind. It doesn’t feel right, to have to do this, and he wishes that he could take them back to the beginning, before things got to this point. He should have noticed. He should have fixed this. Now...now he worries it might be too late.

“Scott. I think... I think you’re drinking too much. I mean, lately . I know it might not seem that way, but... I think it’s too much. And I didn’t realize, and I’m sorry, but-”

Scott shakes his head against the pillow. “Isaac told you to say that, didn’t he? I maybe had a little too much today, but it’s just once. He just caught me at a bad time.”

Carter bites his lip. “I don’t know. It seems like it’s been more than one time. Like it’s been building up for a while. I mean, when was the last time you went a day without drinking?”

Scott hesitates. Starts to speak. Cuts himself off again.

“Baby, I’m not mad at you, really I’m not. I’m just worried. I just want to talk. If this is...I mean, I’ve seen it happen before. Addiction doesn’t get better if you just ignore it. It only gets worse.”

“No!” Scott says suddenly. “No. It’s not anything like that. It’s just... I need you, and you’ve been gone, and... I only need it when you’re not here, that’s the only time. If you weren’t gone so much...”

“What, so it’s my fault?” Carter asks, and he can’t force his voice out of a shrill, annoying tone. He’s angry and scared and this isn’t his fault. He just didn’t know, that’s not his fault. Scott hid this from him. “This isn’t me, Scott, this is you.”

Scott’s face falls. “I just... I didn’t... I’m sorry.”

“And that’s the other thing,” Carter says, gaining momentum. “You always say you’re sorry. You’re just so fucking sorry. Well, I don’t believe you.”

“But I am,” Scott protests. “I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just that I miss you. I miss you so much when you’re not here, Carter, please. I don’t know what to do on my own, except...wait. I need you here. I need to be with you.”

“That’s not-”

“You make it better,” Scott says, sitting up fully. “You help me. You make everything okay, and I didn’t want to mess that up, I’m sorry. Let me-Let me make it up to you. Please. Let me.”

And then Scott’s falling to his knees beside the bed, at Carter’s feet, crawling up between his legs and frantically working at the fly of his pants. Carter wants to pull his hands away; Scott’s fingers are fucking shaking, and he can just imagine Hunter’s reaction. Taking advantage, he’d say. But he’s not here, he doesn’t realize. Scott’s messed up. If he wants this-if it helps him, then who is Carter to refuse?

“Please,” Scott’s whispering, chanting, saying Carter’s name over and over. “Carter, I need-Let me do this, please, Carter, please, I need you. Please. I’ll make it up to you, I’ll be so good for you, I promise, I’ll be better. Just please let me.”

Scott finally gets Carter’s pants open and he hauls Carter’s cock out eagerly. Carter hates that he can even get hard right now, when things are so fucked up, but Scott on his knees, so fucking desperate for a taste of him-it won’t take him long. Scott wraps a hand around the base of Carter’s cock and lifts it, pulls the head into his mouth and licks sloppily, slicking him up before pulling off again and stroking Carter with his hand. Carter feels a moan building in his chest, and he tries to keep quiet, let Scott do what he wants, but Scott puts his mouth back on Carter’s cock and Carter lets out a long, low sound. Scott responds with one of his own, something higher-pitched and more frantic as he slides his lips down over Carter’s cock. He keeps going down, down, down, further than usual, more than Carter’s seen him take before, and Carter gasps, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips up involuntarily.

Scott gags and coughs and pulls off for long enough to catch a breath of air, but then he dives back down and forces himself down until Carter’s cock is hitting the back of his throat again. Carter wraps a hand in the sheet and fists it tight to keep from grabbing Scott’s hair, pulling him down and fucking his throat. Scott doesn’t last long before sitting back on his heels, gasping for air. He keeps jacking Carter’s cock and looks up at him with his eyes wet and pleading.

“Please,” he says. “Please, Carter, please. I need you, let me do this for you, please.”

Carter finally understands what Scott means, then. He doesn’t mean let him, he means make him. Carter slides his fingers through Scott’s hair, taking it out of his face and back behind his ear. Scott’s still watching him, his mouth hanging open and his lips slick and shining with spit. Carter runs his fingers through Scott’s hair again and lets his fingers curl, lets them snag and twist and pull Scott’s head back, and Scott’s eyes slip closed and he sighs and his shoulders slump.

“You want this,” Carter says roughly. “You want my cock.”

“Yes-”

“You want it down your fucking throat,” he says. “You wanna fucking choke on it, don’t you, baby?”

“Carter, please...”

“You wanna make it up to me?” Carter asks, leaning down to tower over Scott. “Fucking look at me, Scott. You want to make it up to me? You want to be better?”

Scott’s eyes fly open. “Yes. Yes, Carter, please-”

Carter stares at Scott then, takes in the blissful look on his face, the way he presses into Carter’s rough touch rather than pulling away. He’s speaking before he realizes, thinking aloud. “You would do anything I asked right now, wouldn’t you?” Scott nods as best he can with Carter holding him as he is, but Carter continues before he can answer. “Anything at all, as long as I was the one asking. What would you do, Scott? Would you crawl for me?”

Scott actually sinks in Carter’s grasp, like he wants his hands on the floor. “Yes,” he gasps. “Carter, please...”

“Would you call me sir? Show me respect?”

“Yes, sir, Carter, I-”

“Would you wear a collar? So I could take you around and tie you up? Huh?”

“Yes, Carter, please, anything!”

Carter yanks Scott forward, back between his legs, so his cock slides against Scott’s cheek, leaving a wet trail of precome. “Would you lick my ass, Scott? Would you rim me? Lay back and let me sit on your face? Fuck me if I told you to, not come until I let you, until I give you permission? Let me tattoo my name all over you, so everyone knows you’re mine?” He grabs his cock with his other hand and rubs it up over the bridge of Scott’s nose, then down over his open lips. Scott’s tongue pokes out, straining to touch, but Carter slaps his cock on Scott’s lips and drags Scott back, out of reach.

There are tears in Scott’s eyes now, and Carter guesses they aren’t from nearly choking on his cock this time, but Scott still meets his gaze. Carter twists his fingers viciously in Scott’s hair, waiting for Scott’s wince of pain.

“Would you stop drinking?” he asks in a low voice. “If I said to stop, would you stop?”

“Yes,” Scott cries. “Yes. Carter, I don’t-I don’t need it when you’re with me, please, please don’t leave me. I just need you, Carter.”

“Then take me,” Carter says, and pulls Scott down onto his cock again. He doesn’t hold back now, doesn’t need to. Scott wants it, all he’s got and more, and Carter gives it to him, holds him by the hair and fucks right into the soft, fluttering muscles in his throat, ignoring Scott’s chokes and gags. “Breathe, baby, come on, you can take it,” he murmurs, not letting Scott up, not giving him an inch.

He ticks off the seconds in his head as best he can through the electric buzzing in his blood, the hot throbbing of his cock nestled tight in Scott’s mouth, and when he decides it’s time, he drags Scott off by the hair, holding him out of reach again. The motion is emphatic enough to knock Scott a little off balance, and he sinks down to his heels, his face hovering just below Carter’s cock. He immediately tries to recover himself, but Carter tightens his grip, keeps him right where he is.

“You’re not gonna move. You’re gonna sit right there and be still for me, aren’t you, Scott? Gonna be good,” he says, keeping his eyes on Scott’s face and jacking his cock with his free hand. Scott’s left just the right amount of slickness behind, wet but not too wet, and Carter’s so close he can almost taste it coming, vibrating up from the very core of him.

Scott doesn’t even answer, just obeys, going absolutely still and staring at Carter’s cock intensely, waiting, waiting. He looks so fucking pretty, so... enraptured. Like he really would do anything Carter asked, anything, no matter how crazy or fucked up. It’s like a high, that knowledge, and Carter jerks his hips. Scott looks hopeful for a second, like he’s wanting Carter’s cock back in his mouth, but Carter just aims higher on his face and tightens his grip and comes, streaking across Scott’s forehead and down one side of his nose, then dragging him close again to smear it on his opposite cheek, right beneath his eye.

He rests the tip of his cock on Scott’s bottom lip as he finishes, and Scott’s tongue darts out to lick away the last of it, tiny little laps on oversensitive flesh that have Carter shivering through the aftershocks. Scott is beautiful like this, eyes closed, lips wet and shining, face marked up dirty and perfect with Carter’s come. Carter pulls him back, just a bit, just enough to let him know he’s finished with Carter’s cock. Then he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, inspecting Scott’s face.

“What a gorgeous mess you are,” he whispers, and Scott smiles, takes it as the praise it is. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Carter reaches up and drags two fingers through the streak of come on Scott’s cheek, collecting it up. Then he holds them in front of Scott’s mouth and waits, watching. He doesn’t want to have to give the order. He wants Scott to know.

Scott’s eyes go wide, and when he looks up, Carter’s not sure what he’s going to see, surprise or revulsion or excitement or something else entirely. When he finally figures it out, it looks like...gratitude. Like Scott’s thanking him in his head as he opens his mouth and eagerly sucks Carter’s fingers inside, licking the come off of them as thoroughly as he can. Carter repeats the motions slowly and deliberately, swiping his fingers over the thick white smears of come on Scott’s face and bringing them back to his mouth, feeding it all to him a little at a time, until his face is clean again. Scott’s breathing quick, shallow breaths, licking his lips, and Carter can see how hard his cock is, tenting out his pants.

“So good for me, baby, so fucking good,” he says on a sigh, and reaches out to pull Scott up to him again, intending to lay him down and suck him off sweet and deep and slow, like a reward.

“No,” Scott murmurs, and the smile slides right off Carter’s face.

“No what, baby?” he asks, pushing himself off the bed and slowly sinking to his knees in the small space between Scott and the bed. Scott looks even more upset once Carter gets to eye level, and he keeps shaking his head.

“I’m not-I’m not good, I’m-I messed up,” he says, his voice shredded and rough. “I’m not good, Carter. I didn’t... I need more. I need... I’m-I’m bad, I’m fuckin’... Carter, please, I need more, I can’t-”

“Shh, baby, shh,” Carter whispers, pressing a finger to Scott’s lips to quiet him. “What do you want, baby? Scott, shhh. What do you want?”

“I fucked up,” Scott tells him tearfully, “I just need more, Carter, please, I need you. Please.”

“You want more?” Carter asks, and something heavy settles in his gut. Hunter told him Scott would be like this, he said Scott would want too much, more than Carter could give. Carter grits his teeth, lets the frustration course through him. He can give Scott more. He can do it. He can handle it. “You want it harder, Scott? You want it to hurt?”

“Yes,” Scott gasps, putting his hands on both of Carter’s shoulders. “Please.”

“You want me to hurt you?” Carter asks. “Is that what you fucking need?”

Scott just moans, beyond words now, and buries his face in Carter’s neck. His skin is burning hot, flushed with embarrassment or desire or just from Carter fucking his mouth, Carter doesn’t know. But he understands now. He knows what Scott’s been asking for all this time, what he hasn’t been able to say. And if he’s really honest with himself, he wants it too. If Scott is giving him this, this opportunity, putting himself in Carter’s hands like unsculpted clay...he’s gonna take it. More than anything, he wants Scott to be happy, and maybe Scott’s right. Maybe this is the way. What, as he’s said so many times, he needs.