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Give You What You Need

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Marcy had a few missed calls from Patrick and hoped nothing was wrong, but when she checked her texts she saw he hadn’t followed up with any critical information, so it was likely not an emergency. It looked like he had called early this morning while her phone was on silent, and she wondered what he needed. It was unlike Patrick to call her so early. She pressed play on the voicemails and started to go around and water the plants in her bright kitchen.

At first, it’s a little fuzzy, like it’s muffled by fabric. Poor thing, he probably butt-dialed her. She plans to go delete it when she finishes her current task, but there’s no harm in letting it play out. It’s definitely happened before, and not just with Patrick. Once, Clint had accidentally called her while he was negotiating at a garage sale, and she got to hear his “expert” diplomacy at work. She had done it too, once calling Rachel accidentally, though thankfully all that was left in that voicemail was Marcy relaying her trip to the grocery store to Clint.

But this seemed different.

The voicemail plays horrifyingly loudly over the speaker, the scene playing out in front of her as thought she was actually witnessing it.

“—need you so much, David.” It’s Patrick’s voice. Marcy is frozen in place. Something about Patrick’s voice sounds… it sounds like she something she shouldn’t be hearing.

“Fuck yes, look how desperate you are,” Marcy hears David's response. She can hear the desire in his voice. She wants to not be hearing this.

And yet she can’t move. Marcy looks down suddenly at the sound of water splashing and realizes she’s just about drowned her Pothos. There’s water spilling out of the clay planter onto the hardwood floor, soil and all, and now there’s another thing that shouldn’t be happening. Oh dear.

The sound continues to play, and some sorts of bodily noises come through the speaker, a squelching and the movement of skin on skin, and Marcy wants to not exist. But still. She’s maybe dissociating?

“Please, please David. More, I need your cock,” her sweet boy cries, and Marcy prays she will be able to forget this, that she’ll be able to look her son and his husband in the eyes again.

Marcy stands there, frozen where she stands and unable to move and stop this thing. Perhaps part of her has always wondered how things were between Patrick and David. Logically, she knows they’re married, and they must… but it seems so different than when she would walk in on him with Rachel.

But this is… this is something else.

As she hears David presumably starting to… Oh God, she can’t… Marcy moves, somehow, and pauses the voicemail.

And then stands there, not sure what to do. There’s, oh my, it’s a nine-minute long voicemail. And this is perhaps the most mortified she’s ever going to be in her life.

“Marce?” Clint asks, coming into the kitchen. “What’s going on in here? Are you alright?” He spies the water spill and Marcy’s stark expression, her deer-caught-in-headlights look, worried.

Now she has the additional problem of wondering whether she should bear this burden herself or force Clint to endure it too.

She’s frozen, unresponsive for a few seconds too long, and Clint asks again. “Marcy? What is it? Tell me.”


David woke up that morning with his husband’s warm mouth around his cock, his absolute favorite way to wake up. Okay, well, that was tied with waking up cuddling up against his husband and kissing each other as the sun started to light up their cottage bedroom. Either way.

But this morning, after Patrick’s skilled tongue made sure David woke up on the right side of the bed, they continued to have some excellent sex. David loved it when Patrick showed off how desperate he was, how he had gotten so comfortable with David penetrating him, as much as him wanting that had caused some latent internalized homophobia to crop up.  

And David was always more than happy to indulge Patrick’s, er, thirstier tendencies. He loved rimming Patrick until he was thrashing around, fingering him til he cried out for more, fucking him until they were both sated. This morning was no different.

It was a Saturday, one of their busier days, but they definitely started it off right, and by the time they got into the store with their drinks from the café, both were feeling like it was going to be a good day. David started to prepare for the store to open while Patrick checked his phone. The quiet music playing in the store was a nice background to their morning routine.

“Um, David,” Patrick started after a moment, looking at his phone as he takes a sip of his tea to warm up for the morning.

David looked over, drinking his own hot beverage as he store-fronts and dusting any merchandise they missed from the day before, preparing for the store to open. “Hmm?” he asks.

“So, I’m not sure, but I think I…” His brow furrowed and he turned red. “I think we may have,” he broke off, unable to even say the words lest they become true.

David became more concerned about his husband and wentc over, looking at whatever is on Patrick’s phone that he’s upset about.

There’s a call from Patrick’s phone to Marcy Brewer. This morning. Early. Around the time they were, um, connecting, as David would say.

Oh, God.

Maybe it’s fine, maybe she picked up and realized they had accidentally dialed somehow – was that when he checked how long they had before they had to get ready for work?—and hung up the phone? What had she heard?

Patrick was usually the one who was able to plan, to figure out the steps of getting from point A to point B. Not now. He froze, catastrophizing. This was a worst-case scenario. He was never going to be able to look at his mother again.

He looked up at David, panicking, needing the love of his life to please help him to live through this mortification. David grimaced, starting to understand as he looked at what had caught Patrick’s attention on his phone.

“Okay,” David said, processing it aloud. “This is fine. It’s going to be fine. I’m sure she didn’t actually hear anything, it’s probably nothing.” Patrick thought it sounded like David was trying to convince himself of that fact more than him. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call Marcy from the store and ask her if she wants me to send here any of that new fragrance of body milk we just started carrying, and if she brings it up, we’ll know, and if she doesn’t, great.”

“And what if she brings it up, David?” Patrick’s voice rose as he panicked, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Listen, honey, we have nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s going to be fine. I’m sure your mom picked up, heard that it was a mistake, and hung up the phone.”

“Right,” Patrick said to himself. He desperately wanted to believe that was true. “Right. You’re probably right.”

“Why don’t you take a walk, Patrick? I know it’s not the same as a hike, but maybe it will let your mind calm down a bit. I can handle opening the store, just make sure you’re back by ten for the mid-morning rush.”

Patrick looked his husband like David was his savior and then without another word walked out of the store, hoping when he returned, they could put this whole thing behind them.

Once Patrick left the store, David released a “Fuck!” into the ether. Okay, but even if Marcy didn’t pick up the phone when they accidentally called here, that probably meant there was a voicemail. And if there was a voicemail, oh God. Why couldn’t it have been his mom instead of Patrick’s?

He took a deep breath, put on his best “normal” voice, and picked up the phone to call his mother in law.

“Marcy?” David asked, trying to keep his voice from revealing his nerves. “Morning!”

“Oh, good morning, dear,” Marcy replied easily. She neglected to continue the conversation, which David thought was a little odd, but perhaps she was just distracted.

“So we got a new fragrance of the body milk in, Bergamot & Jasmine, and I wondered if you’d like Patrick and I to send you some to try out. I know how much you liked the Sandalwood and Ylang-Ylang.”

“Oh, that would be nice, if it’s no bother,” she replied, her voice a little quiet.

“Is everything alright?” David asked, wincing at what he expected her answer might be.

The line was quiet for a moment, as though Marcy was deciding how to respond.

“It seems there was an, um, accidental call this morning,” she said, and David’s heart dropped into his stomach. Oh no. Oh God.

“Ah, yes, Patrick mentioned that he might have…” David tried to explain it away, “Um, he saw an outgoing call. I’m assuming you picked it up and hung up right away?” he asked hopefully.

Marcy was quiet again. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. This was not good.

“Okay, so you heard, um. I’m sorry,” David offered, as though they could just stop that conversation and have that be the end of it.

“Yes, so am I. There was a rather long voicemail, I’m afraid.”

“Ah.” That truth sat in the silence for a minute, both of them taking in this knowledge. “Okay, so, we can, um, never speak of this again.”

“I think that would be best,” she said after another moment of silence. “What about Patrick?”

“Oh, we’re definitely not telling him,” David rushed out, trying to sound peppy and confident even though he, too, was horrified. “He’d die of embarrassment.”

“You know, it’s not that I don’t support you two… um, being together, dear,” Marcy struggled to explain.

“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you have to hear it,” David gritted his teeth. This was not ideal.

“What if I said that all I heard was you kissing?” Marcy suggested.

“I think that’s for the best,” David agreed quickly, and then changed the subject to the store, filling her in on all their other new products before saying he had to open and needed to go.

“Alright dear, I love you. Tell my sweet boy I miss him and I’ll call him back soon.”

“I will. And Marcy,” he finished, “I’m really sorry again that you had to hear that.”

“Hear what, dear? All I heard was you two kissing each other good morning before I hung up.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and was thankful for things to sound relatively normal again so quickly.

“Thanks, Marcy.”

“Goodbye, dear.”


When Patrick returned to the store, David did his best to appear normal, to raise his spirits and return Patrick’s chaotic, nervous energy to the steady, cool demeanor David knew and loved.

“Well?” Patrick asked.

“Okay, so she did hear some stuff,” David acknowledged immediately, knowing what Patrick wanted.

“Oh my God,” Patrick panicked. “This is so bad.”

“It’s totally okay, Patrick,” David tried his best to sound convincing. “She thought it was just us kissing.”

“Really?” his eyebrows shot up, hopeful, and David knew he and Marcy had made the right decision. At least this way, they could still visit Marcy and Clint without too much embarrassment.

“Totally,” David confirmed. “But just in case, let’s make sure our phones are off in the future.”

“Oh, we’re never letting this happen again,” Patrick confirmed, and that was that.