Dans de beaux draps

Patrick's phone tinged from the nightstand table while he stood by the bed, staring at the mess staining the sheets. He let out a loud sigh and grabbed his cellular.

ADRIEN: Can we talk now? Please!

It wasn't like Adrien to text like this, but this was a bad time. His daughter Wei would be back in an hour from walking through the city of Nancy with her grandma. Patrick wasn't sure there'd be enough time to clean up the bed and reassure Brandon that everything was fine by then. Messaging Adrien wasn't part of the plan.

PATRICK: Salut, ?a va? Is it an emergency?

ADRIEN: No, it can wait. Can you text me back ASAP, though? I'm sorry for bugging you.

PATRICK: Don't apologize. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I have a situation here. Are you safe?

ADRIEN: Yeah, I'm good. TTYL.

Patrick groaned and tried hard not to breathe through his nose. He felt awful for not being available right this instant, but Brandon was in the bathroom freaking out—to the point where Patrick didn't even know where to start. He left his phone on the nightstand table and headed down the hall.

"Brandon, will you please come out?" he asked, tapping on the door a couple of times, only to be met with silence. "It happens to everyone, mon chaton . Really, it's no big deal."

Wearing nothing but boxer briefs, Patrick wanted a warm shower, soon—if Brandon would let him. The white tiles were cold under his bare feet as he called his husband again.

"Are you going to stay in there all day long?" he asked.

No response.

"Wei will be here in an hour. I need to shower before she arrives. Please."

Patrick sighed loudly enough that he hoped Brandon could hear his frustration through the door. Really, what happened was no big deal. There was no need to make such a fuss over it. "You're being childish. I told you it was fine. C'est pas la fin du monde, mon poussin. "

"I'm so ashamed."

Patrick could tell from the proximity of Brandon's voice that he was pressed against the door. Probably knocking his forehead on it too, based on the banging sounds he could hear.

"It's just you and me, ma chatte . Nobody else needs to know."

No reply.

"I need to clean up," he added, trying his best not to get irritated. "Will you open the door, please?"

Nothing.

"Fine. "

Disgruntled, he shook his head and turned around to head back to the bedroom. He took a long look at the mess on the bed, straining his neck to inhale the air of the hallway before proceeding forward to open the window, the cold winter chill making him shiver. He stepped toward the cupboard, pulled out some white sheets, undid the bed, and tried his best not to breathe before heading downstairs to wash a load.

The garage was dark and freezing cold when he opened the door and stepped over the concrete. The bulb flickered on, letting out some dim glow that barely helped Patrick find his way. He stumbled upon a full basket and nearly fell flat on his face.

" J'ai déjà dit à Wei de pas laisser ?a là, bordel de merde ."

He rubbed his sore toe and let out a few more French expletives, then considered using some Eau de Javel on his linen. Those were silk sheets, however. The bleach would ruin them. He wasn't sure the stains could come off, unless the Eau de Javel dug holes in the cloth. He'd give it a try anyway. If the set was destroyed, he'd buy a new one without telling Brandon. No need to upset him even more.

After filling the machine and pressing Start, he turned off the light. When the bulb made a sound as if its lifespan had expired, Patrick sighed. He went to wash his hands at the kitchen sink, cleaned himself up a bit, and returned upstairs to finish the bed. Thankfully, the marine-blue comforter had been spared since they'd tossed it to the ground before having sex .

Another ting came from his phone, which he grabbed, leading to an instant frown.

HIDDEN NUMBER: How have you been, Patrick?

PATRICK: Who's this?

HIDDEN NUMBER: Hope you enjoy the day with your family. I'll be watching.

"What the fuck?" he cursed.

HIDDEN NUMBER: You look scrumptious in your briefs. What I'd give to fuck that ass, mon coco !

PATRICK: Who are you?

Of course, the coward didn't reply. Patrick's body tensed up. He headed to the window and looked outside, goosebumps rising on his skin from the cold, but he couldn't see anything past the trees in the front yard.

He pondered how to find the name behind the number. This was the third time in one week the jackass had pestered him. He'd need to ask Jean-Fran?ois. Technology was his area. He'd crack the fucker's identity fast, and that'd be the end of this bullshit.

Patrick slipped his best friend a quick message asking him to respond as soon as possible. He wondered why the harassment had started now, not earlier or later, and pondered what he'd done differently recently that might have triggered it. Had he gone to new places? Talked to new people? The answer was yes to both. In short, he was fucked.

HIDDEN NUMBER: You'll find out who I am soon enough, mon lapin . You have no idea how much I want you still.

Patrick's shoulders stiffened upon his reading the pet name. This was someone who knew him intimately and not some random sicko. He mumbled another profanity and took his frustration out on the bedding. He liked everything tidy and wrinkle-free. Brandon called him a neat-freak, which was only a slight overstatement.

He spent a long time straightening the sheets, pulling them under the mattress, and fluffing the pillows. Once satisfied, he went to the bathroom door and knocked a few times. He was in a terrible mood at this point, and freezing still at that, but he refused to let his temper affect Brandon.

"I've made the bed, ma chatte . You can come out now, okay? I need to shower."

They hadn't used a condom either, which only made matters worse. Patrick had tried to wash off as best he could at the sink downstairs after cleaning his hands, but forgoing a shower wasn't an option.

The lock finally clicked. Standing in the nude, Brandon peeked out as if he expected to see someone down the hall before letting Patrick in. His cheeks were still bright red, his beautiful features taut from being upset. Patrick found his husband's blush scrumptious. In spite of everything that had transpired, the look of him flowed straight to Patrick's dick.

Brandon's cheekbones were high, his eyes dark and shining as if he meant to cry, his short hair black, and his lips full. It had been six years since they had met. Five years since Brandon had permanently moved back from the US, along with his biological daughter, Wei. Five years since Patrick became Wei's other papa.

It was a good thing they hadn't planned a big wedding a few years ago. Atheist Patrick didn't want to walk down the aisle—not that the Catholic church would have accepted such heresy anyway. If they'd prepared for the whole nine yards, it would have taken at least one year. They'd have been interrupted by the damn pandemic. Instead, they'd married quickly at the mayor's office, barely a month before the pandemic escalated and everything shut down. They'd had to cancel their honeymoon, but there'd always be time for that later. Now Brandon's mom was finally visiting after them not seeing each other for over two years.

Patrick gave a tiny, affectionate smile as he stepped inside and caressed Brandon's face. Mortified, his husband held his hands in front of his junk as if it were nothing Patrick had ever seen before. Back in the day, Brandon was more coy than any man Patrick had ever been with. And up to this day, it turned him on beyond belief how reserved his lover was, in the sack and out.

Patrick pulled Brandon's head to his with a hand behind his neck. He pressed their foreheads together and smiled. " Have you been waiting right behind the door the whole time, mon chaton ?"

Brandon shrugged, his sullen gaze undoing Patrick, who dragged his spouse flush against him. He wrapped his long fingers around Brandon's jaw to draw him into a passionate kiss, seeking his tongue. Brandon moaned against his lips, and Patrick felt himself harden.

Brandon's bashfulness made Patrick's grin grow. "It happens to everyone, I swear."

Brandon rolled his eyes. "I don't think so." He pulled back and looked away in embarrassment, the spell of intimacy broken. "Has it ever happened to you?"

Patrick cleared his throat. "Well, no, but I think we both know I prefer to top. Besides you, I'd only bottomed for one man before you."

"Has it happened to the other men you've met, though?"

Patrick didn't care to think back to those days when he used to cruise and fuck his way around town. He wasn't ashamed of it, but he didn't like how lonely he felt back then. He used to lie to himself about it too, but he hated how he couldn't trust any guy he fucked—neither those he nailed in the stalls of random bars nor those he brought back to his place. He much preferred the safety of a stable relationship with Brandon, and he tried hard not to reminisce how vulnerable he felt before meeting his husband.

He couldn't recall a single guy he'd fucked ever shitting himself during sex, but then again he'd been with some of them while nearly blacking out from alcohol. He didn't remember those at all. Some of the others, he'd forgotten because the list was too goddamn long. Yet, he was fairly sure none of them had defecated during anal. He didn't want to hurt Brandon's feelings though, so he didn't reply.

Patrick stroked his spouse's cheek before pulling him into another tight embrace. The skin of Brandon's bare chest was warm and soft against his own. They'd both gained weight during the pandemic, but who gave a fuck? Not him. Brandon had a muffin top now that Patrick found adorable.

"I want you," he whispered in his ear before licking his lobe.

Brandon huffed. "Right."

Patrick suppressed a laugh. "It'll be a crazy story to remember when we've got nothing to talk about ten years from now."

Brandon pulled away and scowled so hard, Patrick couldn't hide his amusement this time. He burst out laughing, guffawing with his throat exposed, chuckling so hard that even Brandon gave a tiny smile.

"It's not funny," he groaned, though he kept on grinning.

"Did the world end?" Patrick asked, tilting his head to the side before kissing Brandon's plump mouth. " Je t'aime, mon amour, tellement que j'en crèverais ."

"I love you too," Brandon said against Patrick's lips before they kissed harder, Patrick pushing his tongue in Brandon's mouth for a sweet stroke.

" Putain, tu me rends fou ," Patrick breathed, feeling himself lose control .

"How crazy?" Brandon asked, pushing his crotch against Patrick's. "How crazy do I drive you?"

"Fuck," Patrick exhaled, closing his eyes as he pressed Brandon against the door. "I want you." He didn't open his eyes. He breathed heavily against Brandon's neck, inhaling the distinctive fragrance of his skin, its testosterone making his cock twitch with need.

Brandon finally relaxed in Patrick's arms. "Do you want to shower?"

"I've been begging you to let me in for the past twenty minutes, so, yes, please."

"You'll never look at me the same."

Patrick took Brandon's face in between two hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "It happens. Please don't dwell on it. Besides, we share a bathroom. It's not the first time I've seen you shit or pee or even barf. There's nothing I haven't seen you do."

"That's different."

Patrick could feel Brandon withdrawing again, so he tried to pull him back to a good mood by making a joke of it all. "Okay, you shat the bed. You also shat on my dick. Big deal. It happens."

Brandon tapped him on the chest. "Can we wash up, please? I feel so disgusting."

Patrick nodded and dragged him by the hand toward the shower, then into a hard French kiss, his eyes closed while undoing his own briefs and feeling his way around to open the glass door. He brought Brandon with him inside and only stopped touching him to close the door and turn the water on.

"Ah!" Brandon shouted with a jump when the first drops fell on him. "Cold."

"Give it a second," Patrick said before pushing him against the wall.

Brandon's flushed cheeks turned crimson. "Promise we'll never talk about this again."

Patrick stifled a smirk. "I promise."

Brandon narrowed his eyes. "You don't look like you mean it."

Patrick waved the problem away with a flick of his hand. The truth was he was stressed as fuck about the creepy messages he had received. He wanted to fuck away that knot of worry twisting his stomach. "Am I allowed to touch you while we shower, or is that off the table?"

Brandon pursed his lips, his eyebrow raised. "I don't think so. I'm not doing that again today."

Patrick took that as a challenge. "Really. You sure? 'Cause I was going to do that thing I did last night. But now, if you think you're not up for it, that's fine. I mean, I can take care of myself on my own. No biggie."

Brandon's eyes widened, his pupils dilating. Patrick could have sworn his breath hitched as well. Brandon loved receiving blow jobs.

"That a yes or a no?" he asked, no longer hiding his naughty smirk.

"Okay, but after we shower. "

Patrick didn't wait to grab the soap. He turned Brandon to face the wall and proceeded to clean him thoroughly while kissing and biting his neck and shoulders. He took an extra-long time to rub Brandon's cock until it was so hard, he couldn't deny Patrick anymore. When Brandon smelled fresh and his skin was branded with bite marks, Patrick cleaned himself.

He grabbed Brandon by the shoulders and turned him around before falling to his knees. When his head spun with dizziness from the hot steam of the shower, he closed his eyelids a few seconds as black dots filled his vision. The water poured on his back in droplets, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He took his husband, fully erect, in his mouth in one try, eliciting a gasp from deep within Brandon's throat.

***

"Dad," Wei shouted just as Patrick and Brandon were putting on their clothes. "Eww, what's that smell?" she asked as she walked into the hallway.

"I had a bad case of diarrhea," Patrick replied right away.

Brandon's shoulders sagged in relief. More voices came from downstairs, speaking in English, though too indistinct to tell the words apart.

Wei was standing at their bedroom door. She had grown tall over the past few years. She was a teenager now—sixteen years old and counting. If she already had an attitude as a child, it was nothing compared to how stubborn and strong-willed she had become. Brandon didn't care to correct her most of the time. He knew all too well that it was better for any girl to stand her ground than be a people-pleaser.

So far, her behavior had led to a few issues at school, though only because the administration seemed to believe boys should get away with anything they wanted on the premise that "boys will be boys." Wei, Brandon, and his ex-wife, Ling, felt otherwise.

Wei had gotten in trouble for kicking a boy in the sack after he'd tried to kiss her without asking. She was then called to the principal's office a second time for cursing at another kid who'd grabbed her ass, then slapping him in the face. Yet, Brandon couldn't help but be proud of her for standing up for herself and not caving in. She got that attitude from Ling, definitely.

Handling his ex-wife was another story. She'd wanted to storm into that school to kick the boys' asses as well. Brandon reminded her they were minors, and seeking a physical fight with them was illegal and not worth jail. He'd needed the help of Ling's wife, Eve, to calm her down. The issue was settled for now, thankfully.

"Grams wants us to go on another visit."

"In about an hour, ma chatte ," Patrick replied. "I have to place a work call right now."

"On a weekend?" Brandon chided, though this wasn't the first time it happened.

Patrick was still the workaholic he used to be when they met. Helping his patients was the most important thing to him. Brandon wondered if they were more important than his family. But then, he realized Patrick's presence could be the difference between a living patient and one who might hurt themselves irrevocably.

"It won't take long." Patrick buttoned down his white shirt, his jet-black hair still wet from the shower, falling into his beautiful pea-green eyes. He winked at Brandon, leaned forward to kiss his lips, and slapped him on the ass before leaving the room for his office.

In spite of Patrick's feigned nonchalance, Brandon could feel something was wrong. He tried to dismiss it as some work preoccupation, but the sensation was gnawing at him regardless. Patrick had seemed stressed of late.

Brandon followed Wei down the dark wooden stairs, into the hall, all the way to the kitchen where he rejoined his mother and their special guest. His mom pulled him into a tight hug and left a slobbery kiss on his cheek, drawing a trace of lipstick that she tried to thumb away after licking her finger.

She'd arrived three days earlier on a direct flight from New York City to Paris, where he and Patrick had driven from Nancy to pick her up. It was her first time visiting, and Brandon hadn't seen her in over two years because of the pandemic. Because his mom hadn't traveled to Europe before, they decided it was best if she didn't come alone.

Brandon's friend Chase had offered to join. He and Brandon had met at the boxing club over a decade ago. Though Brandon hadn't practiced in years and let himself go a bit during the pandemic, Chase was still a member of the club. As a Krav Maga teacher, Chase had no choice but to stay fit. Working out was his entire life.

Brandon looked at him, and Chase shot him one of his signature white-toothed smiles. His electric-blue eyes shone wickedly as he bit into a green apple and munched on it before licking his lips.

"Wei showed us all around downtown," he said in English with a strong New York accent, just as Wei left the room to ask something of Patrick. Chase scratched the back of his head, messing up his unkempt midnight-brown hair, and took another bite. "She's been a real sweetheart, translating for me and your ma and all. ‘Cause I've got no clue what those people are saying." He let out a loud guffaw as if he were laughing at his own joke. He gave another wink and bit in his apple.

Standing next to Brandon's small mom, Chase looked like a giant at six feet, three inches, his arms the size of both of hers combined. He rolled his neck and moved to open the trashcan, then threw away the core of his fruit. His large tattoo showed underneath his black tank top. Brandon knew from having seen him topless that Chase was ripped, and his tattoo represented a Japanese phoenix.

Brandon ran his eyes over Chase's clothes, his faded jeans torn at the knees, matched by a top that had lost most of its color. It was as if Chase tried to hide his gorgeousness behind tattered clothes—not that it ever worked. Brandon remembered quite well all the girls checking Chase out wherever they went. It wasn't until years later that Brandon found out Chase was actually bi. He'd always assumed the guy was straight since he had a new woman on his arm every week and never seemed to do more than one-night stands with each of them.

Chase patted his pockets and cursed in Spanish under his breath. "I left my phone in Patrick's office this morning when I went to say hi to him."

He left the kitchen, and Wei let out a loud sigh as she walked back in.

"What is it, sugar?" her grandma asked in English after sitting at the kitchen table.

"I really wanted to go to Snowrold in Amnéville today. Chase said he wants to snowboard with me."

Of course he would say something like that. Chase was a reckless daredevil.

"Chase doesn't know how to use a snowboard, Wei," Brandon said.

Wei shrugged. "Neither do I. We can learn."

"Amnéville isn't super close."

Wei sighed even louder. "Okay, then I want to go to the ice rink."

Brandon stared at his daughter. "You know Grandma can't do any of that stuff. I'm sure she'd like to visit around here instead."

His mom interrupted him, "Please don't talk on my behalf. I'll do whatever Wei wants. I can sit on a bench and watch."

Wei sighed and rolled her eyes at her dad. "See! But Papa is working again, so I don't know if it'll happen."

Brandon bit his lower lip. "The call shouldn't take long. "

Wei gave a fist pump. "Can I invite Ga?lle to come along?" She had a sly smile on her face, telling Brandon she was up to something. He narrowed his eyes but nodded.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that he found out why she was smirking, when he heard her talk in French on the phone. " Il est super beau. Tu vas voir . Un canon ."

Great! His daughter wanted to use Chase and his good looks to be more popular. Brandon clenched his jaw and made a face. Just great!

Speaking of the devil, Chase came back, his head bent toward his phone as he typed something fast. Wei hung up and kept that mischievous little grin on her face.

" Me fais pas regretter d'avoir dit ‘oui,' " Brandon told her.

" Ben quoi? " she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes over her dark brown eyes.

"You're a teen. The lowest age limit for him is mid-twenties to thirties," he said sternly, in English this time. "Way out of your league!"

She puffed and rolled her eyes, but she'd understood quite well. Chase would never date some teenage girl. It made Brandon sick to his stomach to think his daughter might have the hots for Chase. What the fuck? didn't even begin to cut it at this point.

"The age limit for what?" Chase asked.

Brandon looked at him. Chase was leaning against the frame of the door, his tall body tensing as he ran his tongue over his perfect teeth .

"She knows." Brandon was not happy. He couldn't wait for Patrick to be done with his call to give him moral support.

Wei was too wise for her young years. She'd always been smarter than her age group, and that was causing issues when it came to boys because she was too mature for most other kids. But Brandon would die on that hill. No way was he letting his daughter flirt with any guy over seventeen years old. That was why she wasn't allowed to join her friends when they went out to dance clubs. She was still too young for that, even at age sixteen, and he didn't quite trust her to behave.

In his eyes, she was still a child. Of course, if an adult preyed on her, it would never be her fault, no matter how mature she seemed. There was never any doubt about that.

Chase pulled Brandon out of his reverie right then. "So where are we going?"

"To the ice rink," Wei replied. "Dad said you don't know how to snowboard."

Chase raised an eyebrow at Brandon while answering Wei, "Well, your dad should know I always try everything at least once."

Brandon was not in the mood for the innuendos, even if no one understood except him, because he knew Chase so damn well. He narrowed his eyes at Chase in warning, but it was obvious Chase had no idea what the issue was.

"Let's get ready," Brandon said, none too happily.

"I'll go tell Papa."

Wei left, and Chase asked, "What's the problem, man? You're all tense. "

Brandon flicked his hand. "It's nothing."

Chase didn't buy it, but he let it go anyway. "Okay. I'm gonna go put a hoodie back on ‘cause the rink's gonna be cold."

With that, he left for the guest room, and Brandon sighed.

"It's her age," his mom said gently. "You're overprotective."

"She should swoon over guys her age. Not grown men."

His mom laughed. "It's purely innocent. What matters is Chase is man enough not to use that to his advantage, and we know he's not that kind of guy."

"What if she swoons over some perv?" he asked.

His mother gave a tiny smile. "Your friend teaches Krav Maga…"

"Are you preaching for violence, Mom?" he asked, baffled.

"Those types of people don't deserve any better. You know my saying, ‘Touch a kid, lose a dick.'"

"Mom!" Brandon wanted to bleach his ears. He didn't care for hearing the D word coming out of his mother's mouth. He let out a shudder.

She shrugged and held herself to the table to stand. "Just saying it the way I see it." She gave him a big kiss on the cheek, leaving yet another lipstick mark.

***

When they arrived outside the rink two hours later, Wei texted Ga?lle to let her know they were waiting for her. Ga?lle texted back that she was in the parking lot. Her mom was dropping her off. They waited for her to enter the rink, where the blasting music bothered Brandon instantly.

Wei wrinkled her nose at Ga?lle upon hearing the French eighties song, " C'est quoi cette daube? "

" Daube? " Chase asked.

"It means this music sucks ass," Wei replied in English.

"Wei!" Brandon warned, narrowing his eyes at her.

She stuck out her tongue at her dad, and Patrick took his hand from behind, saying loudly in his ear, "Remember it will pass, mon chou . She's just trying to play it cool in front of Chase."

Brandon made a face while they retrieved their skating boots from the front desk. They each went to their respective lockers to drop off their coats and beanie hats before meeting again at the stairs and slowly proceeding to join the rink below.

"We're gonna have to talk about Chase."

Patrick laughed. "I don't think we'll need to," he said, raising his chin at Chase, who was kneeling in front of a woman, helping her put on her ice skates.

Brandon sighed. "Well, that sure didn't take him long."

"Does it ever?" Patrick replied, his green eyes shining wickedly.

When done, Chase held out his hand to the woman, who blushed all over when she looked into his electric-blue eyes. She grabbed his arm, then his shoulders to hold herself up.

"She's feeling the goods," Patrick murmured with a low laugh .

Wei glanced their way, her face morphing into a mask of annoyance, which triggered another chuckle from Patrick.

"She's jealous all right," he joked.

"It's not funny. She's so young," Brandon grumbled.

Chase walked backwards toward the rink, holding on to the woman's two hands to lead her to the ice, where he skated after glimpsing behind him only once. He guided her, his sharp blue eyes on hers the entire time while she struggled to stay on her legs.

"It doesn't matter what Wei's intentions are," Patrick reminded Brandon. "Chase is into women, not young girls. This is actually teaching Wei a good lesson. Next time, she'll stick to guys her age. Not some grown-ass man with the libido of a bunny."

Wei had her gaze fixed on the woman skating with Chase. If eyes could kill, the woman would drop dead.

The music was deafening, so Patrick signaled he was going to the café with Brandon's mom. He took his mother-in-law's hand and helped her up the stairs toward a quieter enclosed space. He'd looked at his phone a few times in the car as if he were expecting something nasty to sprout out of the screen. But when Brandon had asked what was wrong, his spouse said everything was fine even as his eyes scanned the entire area with suspicion.

** *

Patrick was still at the cafe table overlooking the rink, drinking an espresso while his mother-in-law sipped a strawberry milk, when Brandon and the girls joined him. Chase followed right behind, his arm around the mysterious woman. He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his unruly hair, and gestured with his head for Brandon to follow him a bit further, though Patrick could still hear their entire conversation.

"So, Louise and I are gonna head out," he said. "Don't expect me tonight."

Brandon didn't seem surprised in the least. "I don't want to sound like my mom and all, but d'you know when you'll be back?"

Chase looked at his conquest from the corner of his eye and grinned, his perfect white teeth flashing. "I'll give you a call, okay? Probably tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay, but you're gonna miss the trip to Alsace tomorrow."

"It's okay. I'll be exploring other landscapes," Chase shot back with a cocky smile and a wriggle of his eyebrows.

"You're such a dork." Brandon laughed when Chase tapped him on the shoulder.

" Vous parlez anglais? " he asked Louise upon returning to the table.

" Non, mais je parle espagnol couramment ."

"Ah." So that was how Chase had managed to seduce her, by speaking to her in Spanish, though Brandon had seen him score with people who didn't even speak his language at all. It was as if no one could resist those gorgeous blue eyes and the wicked smile that came along with them, promising the sexual experience of a lifetime. Brandon shook his head and told him to have fun.

"Oh, I will." Chase wrapped his arm around Louise's shoulders as they walked out.

"Some things never change," Brandon grumbled through his teeth.

"Where's Chase going?" Wei asked.

Patrick raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "To do things that adults do. See what I mean?"

Wei huffed and rolled her eyes twice when Patrick whispered directly in her ear, "I agree with Dad. You need to stick to boys your age. Chase is a grown man; he has certain hobbies you've got no business getting involved in with an adult. Not every man is as decent as him, Wei. I don't want to end up in jail for emasculating someone who's groomed you."

"My moms have already told me about groomers, Papa. I got that lesson when I was six, thanks. Can you and Dad let it go already, geez?" Wei sighed, then asked Brandon for dough so she and Ga?lle could buy something to eat. Brandon handed her twenty euros and sat next to Patrick.

The music was muffled here, but they were still playing French eighties music, which always reminded Patrick of his childhood. He took his husband's hand in his and intertwined their fingers together, reveling in the moment, while his mother-in-law looked at them both and smiled. Life was good for him, and he knew from his psychiatry job that it wasn't the case for everyone, including some of his closest friends.

As if on cue, his phone beeped, and he shot a glance at Brandon. His husband nodded as if reading his mind.

Patrick moved in his seat to pull his phone out of his front pocket.

JEAN-FRANCOIS: Viens me sauver! ?a craint du boudin ici.

Patrick sighed. Yet another friend asking for help. What did he need saving from this time?

PATRICK: Qu'est-ce qui se passe, mon chou? Did you not receive my message this morning?

A few dots showed up before Jean-Fran?ois replied in French again.

JEAN-FRANCOIS: Could you give me a phone call? I need an excuse to step out of this date.

Patrick pursed his lips, but he signaled to Brandon that he needed to head out for a minute. He stepped all the way outside the building and turned his phone back on to click on Facetime.

Jean-Fran?ois's face showed up on the screen right away. He was at the terrace of some café. His dark hair was pulled back in a Dutch braid that was long enough to reach his waist, his gray eyes flashing. He flicked his hair over his shoulder with one flamboyant move of his gracious hand. His gray eyes were circled with mascara and dark make-up.

Patrick didn't care for the scared vibe his friend was sending from kilometers away. Jean-Fran?ois's eyes darted toward his date, his mouth falling at the corners.

Patrick played the role he knew he'd been assigned against his will. He'd done it more than once before.

"Where the hell are you? I came home, and you weren't there," he snapped, pretending to be the angry boyfriend.

Jean-Fran?ois acted worried, though Patrick guessed it wasn't all feigned. "Uh, I'm downtown with a friend."

"I thought you said he knew," Patrick heard the other guy reply.

"Who's that?" Patrick growled.

Jean-Fran?ois gestured at the other guy to dismiss him. "I'd better go. Sorry."

He stood and left the terrace, scurrying down the street before turning a corner and slowing down. "Thanks! You saved me from a bad one."

"Care to tell me what's going on? Where's Enrique?"

"He's at work, doing overtime."

"Does he know about this?"

Jean-Fran?ois nodded. "Of course. He knew I was going to meet this guy. I was supposed to test the waters first before bringing him back to the apartment for us both tonight."

"What's wrong with the guy?" Patrick asked .

"First, he looked nothing like his picture on Grindr. Then, he wanted to come straight to the apartment, but Enrique refused. So I came to meet him here. And on top of that, the guy failed the hygiene test. I had to sit as far away as I could while he kept leaning toward me with his fennec breath. No thanks."

Patrick knew they had opened their relationship to others a little while ago. It seemed to be going well for the most part, except on occasions like these.

"How is Enrique's dad doing?" Patrick changed the subject. He missed Jean-Fran?ois so much since his best friend had moved to Spain, closer to Enrique's family after his dad got sick with cancer, before relocating to the South of France.

"Still in remission. He's doing great."

"I'm glad," Patrick replied. "Don't tell Enzo you're using Grindr; I don't want to be involved in that kind of drama."

Jean-Fran?ois pouted. "No fun. I was hoping to rile him up a bit. How is our dear Enzo doing?"

"He's good. They're leaving for London next month."

"Wow, lucky bastard!"

Patrick smiled. "Could you help me with my problem now?"

As if sensing his distress, his phone beeped with a message.

HIDDEN NUMBER: I hope you enjoyed the rink, mon chaton . God, you're still so gorgeous. I never should have let you go.

" Putain de merde ," Patrick cursed, perusing the area with a quick glance. He didn't see anyone around. How did the freak know he was here?

"You okay?" Jean-Fran?ois asked.

"Someone's been texting my phone some creepy shit. I wanted to know if you could help me find who it is."

"What kind of creepy shit?" Jean-Fran?ois asked.

"He seems to know a bunch about me, including where I am right now."

"Huh." Jean-Fran?ois frowned as he kept walking down the streets of Perpignan.

"He knows about Brandon and Wei too." Patrick felt his heart racing as he said it. He fucking hated the sensation.

"You're sure it's a guy?" Jean-Fran?ois asked.

"He sounds pretty intimate, yeah."

"Someone you fucked the wrong way," he asked sarcastically.

Patrick didn't find the joke funny. "I always fuck the right way, first of all. If there's one thing I excel at, it's fucking. Maybe I fucked him over, though. He wouldn't be the only one. You know I have a rep around here."

Jean-Fran?ois shook his head, trying not to laugh.

"What's so damn funny? I'm telling you some freak is harassing my family, and you're laughing. What the fuck, man?" Patrick's nostrils flared.

Jean-Fran?ois forced a fake concerned moue. "Look, he might know what your dick looks like, but obviously he doesn't know you too well if he thinks he can mess with you like that. Can I come watch when you catch him and beat his ass?"

Patrick huffed. Jean-Fran?ois wasn't taking this seriously at all. He would have involved Enzo instead, but his other best friend was the worrying type, and Patrick would never hear the end of this story.

"Okay, don't help me. Fine!" He was about to hang up when Jean-Fran?ois's expression turned sour.

"You're really worried?"

"Of course I am! He mentioned my family."

Jean-Fran?ois was done kidding around. "Okay. So there are apps you can use to track a number. But most of the time, they don't work. Your best bet is the police."

Patrick pursed his lips. "Right, because they'll be real helpful when I say I used to cruise the bars, and someone I fucked is now harassing me. You know they don't take same sex harassment seriously."

"They will if you say Wei is involved."

Patrick tsked. He didn't like the idea at all. He hadn't even told Brandon about the messages yet. Everything today had happened too quickly.

"I'll look up the apps. I'll text them to you after some digging." Jean-Fran?ois wasn't joking anymore. There was a spark in his eyes. Patrick knew that glow well; it was the same flicker that crossed Jean-Fran?ois's gaze when he'd decided someone was going too far with his buddies and there was going to be hell to pay .

"Thanks for helping. Are you good with the other guy? He didn't follow you?"

Jean-Fran?ois looked behind him, then shook his head. "Nope. Good riddance. Enrique will be disappointed. We haven't had a threesome since the beginning of the pandemic. Oh well."

"We're at the ice rink, and Wei is being her typical teenage self again today. I need to go back and give Brandon a hand."

"Okay. Thanks for saving me again. After your feigned jealousy fit, I doubt Mr. Fennec-Breath will contact me."

Patrick shook his head with a smirk. "Okay, take care!"

Jean-Fran?ois blew him a kiss and cut the contact.

Patrick sighed. The poly topic reminded him of Adrien. In his job, he'd had to learn to push his work to one corner of his brain so it wouldn't bleed into his personal life, but he could never stop worrying about his patients, especially those who were barely treading water.

He didn't have time to pocket his phone before another message popped up.

HIDDEN NUMBER: I will see you online soon, ma chatte . I've missed you. Does your husband know your little secret, Monsieur PsyAGrosseBite ?

"What the fuck?" This was someone who'd talked to him on Grindr? That was how he knew to track Patrick? Shit! Might not be anyone he'd ever fucked. Just some random psycho from the internet.

" Merde! " Patrick cursed. " Merde! Merde! Merde! "

He was going to find the fucker, and the guy had better run fast because Patrick wouldn't be responsible for his actions once he got ahold of him. He knew without a doubt the perpetrator was a man now. The problem was Patrick had nailed a lot of men, many of whom held a real grudge against him for not pursuing further after the act. It would be difficult to figure out which one was now harassing his family. And if this was someone he didn't even know in person, he was screwed.