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“Here, take my bag and grab us a table near an outlet, I’ll order. What do you want?”
“I want an iced caramel macchiato with vanilla sweet cream, cold foam, and four pumps of white chocolate mocha syrup. Oh, and whipped cream.”
“...How the actual fuck do you expect me to remember that?”
“Just say you're here to pick up my usual,” said Marcus with a grin.
Travis rolled his eyes, but headed to the counter without further argument. Marcus meanwhile commandeered a table towards the back of the cafe. He dropped his briefcase onto the free chair and settled down, laying Travis’s bag on the table.
Thank all that was unholy the work week was over. If he was going to be honest, Marcus was looking forward to doing little of anything for the next day or two. However the prospect of spending some time with Travis was rather appealing.
Illicit storage closet quickies at work had thankfully evolved into spending weekends together at Marcus’s apartment. Travis kept inviting Marcus to his place, but that meant probably meeting Travis’s wife, and Marcus wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for that, regardless of what their relationship was.
“Your cup of diabetes, good sir,” announced Travis with a snooty accent, placing the cup before Marcus on their table.
“Thank you, Jeeves,” returned Marcus. He took a cursory sip. “Mmn. Perfect.”
“Christ, it’s not even coffee at this point with all that shit in it,” groused Travis, taking the seat opposite him. He put down his own cup, and a small paper bag. Immediately he ripped open the bag revealing a slab of coffee cake covered in cinnamon streusel, and a packet of Madeleines. “How can you stomach all that sugar?”
Marcus looked pointedly at the collection of baked goods in front of Travis, then at him, raising an eyebrow.
“...Fuck off.”
Looking utterly innocent, Marcus took another sip of his iced coffee. “I said nothing.”
“You didn't need to. Brat.”
Marcus snickered.
Travis scoffed. “But seriously. There's a reason I asked you out for coffee.”
“...I assumed it was an attempt to get into my pants later.”
“Not saying that’s off the table,” Travis conceded. “But um. The real reason is I’d really like your opinion on something.”
Travis actually sounded serious; goodness, was that a chill in the air? Marcus waited for him to continue.
"Okay, uh, I’m working on this new script right now. I was hoping that I could ask you to take a look at it?"
Ah. So that was it. Marcus chewed his lip thoughtfully. Sometimes when they hooked up, he wondered if Travis was really planning out script ideas, going by some of the things he would say. Sometimes it was sweet, sometimes it was raunchy, and sometimes it was absolutely rancid.
“...Sure, let’s see it. I don’t know how much of a critic I can be here, though.”
“Mostly I just want to know if the writing style makes sense. I, uh, was trying something different.”
Travis started digging through his bag. He pulled out his laptop, and a script. Not a finalized one, clearly. The cover itself had a few titles written on the cover that had been scratched out; the one it seemed to be going by now was “A Day’s Journey”
“So, this is just a rough draft. I still need to spice the dialogue up a little.”
“Oh good. So I don't have to worry about getting jump-scared by someone being called a ‘juicy little cock-sleeve’. Noted.”
“Nope, fuck you.” Travis snatched the script back, red faced. “You can’t read it if you're just going to poke fun.”
He looked legitimately worried, holding the script close like it was a child. Marcus was actually oddly touched, that Travis seemed to care enough about his opinion that he had been willing to share the unfinished work with him in the first place.
“You're the writer here, not me. I’ll help you edit, but that’s all. I promise I’m not going to poke fun.” Marcus offered his hands to take the script. “Please let me see it, Trav?”
After a second of hesitation, Travis huffed, “...Fine,” and laid it into his hands.
This was much artsier than the usual sort of thing Travis wrote, both in story and style. It was about two men whose lives were separate but intertwining. The script chronicled their sexual escapades throughout a day until they finally met in the evening at a bar. The fact that one of the men was married was not lost on Marcus.
After a minute or two of reading, he nodded.
“Yeah.”
Travis, who had been quietly watching Marcus read, suddenly sat upright. “...Yeah?”
“The stream of consciousness writing is a little strange. It might need to be tightened up, to make it easier to perform as a script. But aside from that, this is actually pretty good.”
“You really think so?”
“...And it's hot,” admitted Marcus, a little flushed.
“Thank you.” Travis looked truly pleased, and a little relieved.
“But…”
“What but? Why is there a but? What's wrong with it?”
“I've been wondering…” Marcus hesitated.
Travis looked distressed all over again. “Fuck, just say it so I can obsess over the criticism like a normal person.”
“Is it you or Mr. Valentino who has the Daddy kink?”
And of course that was the exact moment the entire coffee shop went quiet.
“What the fuck, Marcus?!” Travis rasped. Whatever he’d expected to hear, clearly that was not it.
“I just see it popping up in your writing a lot.” Marcus flips through the pages, until he finds his example. “Like right here, there’s that frotting scene where Stephen calls Leo ‘Daddy’. See?”
“W-what does that have to do with–”
“I'm not judging, I'm just curious, that's all.” Marcus drummed a finger on the table. “Look, I know a lot of Mr. Valentino’s films cater to that… demographic, so I would imagine if he thinks something is going to sell well, he’s more likely to gravitate towards it from a business perspective.”
“Well, y-yeah.”
“Plus if it’s his particular interest, I can understand why you’d specifically put that in there. That makes it more likely for him to consider your script, therefore more likely to get made, and that’s more money in your pocket. You do get some kind of residual as a writer, right?”
“Initially, sure, but it’s not an ongoing thing-”
“Hm. That's too bad.”
Travis looked uneasy pursuing the conversation, so Marcus paused and took another sip of his coffee, to give him a second to breathe. But he was nowhere near finished.
“On the other hand, if this isn't for Mr. Valentino’s benefit, but yours…”
He gave Travis a heavy lidded gaze and a smug smile.
“I imagine that throwing your own kinks in your work isn’t too unusual for the industry. But I'm willing to bet you’re putting it in there personally so you can get off to Angel Dust chirping your own sexy talk while you direct him.”
The look on Travis’s face was exquisite, a mix of arousal, guilt, and outrage at being found out.
“So which is it?” Marcus paused, then rested his chin on folded hands, looking at Travis over the top rims of his glasses. “...Daddy?”
Travis opened and closed his mouth several times before he was able to finally speak. “...I fucking hate you.”
“Oh, do you?” Marcus pretended to hesitate, turning his face away. He then tilted his head to give Travis a sideways glance, adding with a quaver in his voice, “You hate your boy?”
Travis looked ready to stab Marcus with his plastic fork for a moment, but instead decided the coffee cake was a better replacement. Hungrily, Travis made short work of it, crumbs scattering.
Marcus pretended concern. “Are you okay there? Obviously you’ve got something else on your mind to put in your mouth.”
“Oh my god. You are such a little shit.”
“You gonna make me pay for it, Daddy..?” Hell, this wasn’t even Marcus’s kink, but oh, he was going to milk it for all it was worth.