...Carver found a strip of black leather etched with silver inside. It looked both well worn and well cared for. “Is this a collar?” It seemed such a crass word for the elegant object. He’d noticed a few at the club, but none looked like this.

“Would you please put it on me?” David spoke every word with seemingly great effort.

Why couldn’t he do it himself? Keyed in with David’s behavior, it was one more thing telling Carver this was a bad idea. “David, I don’t think—”

“You never think, Carver,” David snapped.

Now he looked at Carver, and Carver wished he wouldn’t. His eyes were steely with anger and…pain. The odd combination left Carver feeling extremely uncomfortable.

“Put the collar on me now.”

The command had Carver in motion and the collar almost fastened around David’s neck before it fully registered. How did David do that?

When he finished settling the leather around David’s neck, David visibly relaxed. His “Thank you” was almost too quiet to hear.

“David, maybe we should—”

David’s eyes were back to looking somewhere just over Carver’s shoulder. “We don’t want to be late.”

Carver was tempted to argue, but he was starting to think it wouldn’t do any good.

They were silent on the drive over. David sat in the passenger seat and kept his own thoughts while Carver drove, wondering what in the hell was going on with his partner. David was uncharacteristically docile, but there was something underneath it, something Carver hated himself for not being able to read. The stable foundation he’d been living on for the last few months suddenly seemed to be shifting sands, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Carver parked on the street up from the club and got out. David followed, quite literally. He never came fully even with Carver as they crossed the street and headed toward Venus, always staying a step or two behind, no matter how Carver changed his pace. Carver couldn’t take it anymore and whirled to shove David into a doorway two shops up from Venus. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Damn it, David, stop screwing around!”

“What did you think this would be like, Carver?” David hissed with more emotion than Carver had seen from him all night. “You wanted a sub? Congratulations, you got one. If you can’t handle it, that’s not my problem.”

“I don’t act like that.”

“No? You don’t drop your eyes when I tell you to do something? Don’t give way whenever I ask for anything?”

“It’s not like—”

“It’s exactly like that, Carver. It’s not about having someone to boss around. It’s about having someone trust you so completely that they let you make those decisions for them. It’s a goddamn responsibility, Carver, and now it’s yours. Whether you like it or not.”

The whole time he never directly met Carver’s gaze.

Carver realized how out of his depth he was. He’d thought—well, no, David was right there, he hadn’t thought. He’d assumed he would be able to brazen his way through like everything else.

“What do I do?” They weren’t even in the door and he’d fucked up. “David, tell me what to do.”

David looked at him long enough to say, “No,” and let the word sink in, before glancing down again.

“Goddamn it, David!”

David kept his mouth shut and eyes down.

“Fuck.” Carver left the doorway, marching toward the club. That David silently followed irritated him further.

He knocked on the door with more force than necessary.

Lisle, the regular door girl, smiled when she opened the door for him. “Bit eager to get in tonight, Mr. Eliot?”

“Something like that.”

She shook her head. “Alexandra’s waiting for you in the office.” Peering past him, her smile deepened when she saw David. “Oh, my.”

“I’m beginning to think he’s more trouble than he’s worth,” he grumbled.

“I’d be glad to take him off your hands for you.”

“I’m tempted to give him to you.” David winced, and instantly Carver felt ashamed.