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Title: you're so pretty in the city of industry
Author: [livejournal.com profile] waltzforanight
Fandom: Canada RPF
Pairing: Molly Parker/Tracy Wright
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1945
Summary: Callum is classy, Don is oblivious, and girls get theirs on the set of "Twitch City".

Notes: Written for [livejournal.com profile] meresy's C6D porn tag game. This is part of a larger story that refused to conform to the 24-hour time constraint I had in which to write. Alas, my prompt ("empire") and some of my most favourite bits are in the unfinished beginning of the story, so I will soon have to finish the whole thing and post. For now, have the porn!

Hurry up and wait is the motto of any film set, whether it's American or Canadian or wherever. Anyone who works even semi-regularly as an actor is used to it, sure, but that doesn't make it any less annoying when the wait part stretches out past the two hour mark.

It's the third-to-last day of filming "Twitch City" and everything has come to a halt because something's wrong with Bruce's camera. Which means that after all that hurry up, the cast is stuck sitting around waiting for the last few hours. Don is pacing back and forth across the tiny room, occasionally stopping to sit Indian-style on the floor, while Callum lays stretched across the beat-up old couch. Molly and Tracy are sharing the arm chair in the corner. Molly is half in Tracy's lap and half on the seat cushion, and Tracy has one arm wrapped around Molly's waist so that she doesn't fall out of the chair.

"What's the hold up, I wonder?" Molly asks, resting her head on Tracy's shoulder. She's pretty sure all four of them just want to go home, but Bruce is determined not to let the day be a complete bust, so he called in a few favours and managed to borrow a camera. A camera that was supposed to get here over an hour ago.

"Accident on the 401," Tracy replies, idly playing with Molly's hair. "Heard about it on the radio on my way over."

Don gives a small snort and briefly stops his pacing. "Oh, please," he says dismissively. "When is there not an accident on the 401? Surely we, as Ontario citizens, should be used to that by now."

"Moll and I live in B.C.," Callum points out. "So we have an excuse to be impatient, right?"

"Whatever," Don replies, resuming his track around the room. "This man who is supposedly lending us a camera, he is from Ontario - well, he lives in Mississauga, anyway, and he should be used to it. That's no excuse for taking so damn long."

No one can really argue with that, and the room falls into silence again. Molly checks her watch for the six hundredth time. She's starving; she and Tracy were supposed to leave and go get dinner awhile ago. And now, who knows? Bruce won't let them leave before the day's shots are done - Molly already tried whining and begging. Maybe they should just order pizza or something...

"I should have invented hovercraft technology," Don says suddenly. He's back to sitting on the floor again. "Instead of embarking on a film career. That would have been useful. Then we could just... hovercraft a camera here."

That sounds reasonable to Molly, but Callum doesn't agree. "Wouldn't that just cause, you know, space accidents?" he asks, still staring at the ceiling. "All those hovercraft machines, zooming about, they'd just crash into each other, right?" He does something with his hands that Molly figures is probably supposed to represent a hovercraft collision. "What about that, eh?"

Don is silent for a moment, then snaps his fingers and grins. "I would have thought of that already and invented anti-accident software. Because I'm brilliant," he says smugly, shooting Callum a triumphant look. "Thus, that wouldn't be a problem. And we would have a camera, so our present problem would also be solved. Like I said, brilliant."

Callum just rolls his eyes and abruptly changes the topic, probably before the conversation turns into a discussion on Don's ability to create space-age technology. "You guys should make out," he announces, turning his attention to Molly and Tracy. Molly squeaks a little because what? Where did that come from? She feels Tracy's fingers press harder into her waist, but she's more focused on the twisted smile Callum is giving her. It's one she's seen a lot - one that's part smug, part amused, and all I'm picturing you naked in my head, but somehow still charming. It's just usually directed at other girls, not her, and Molly has no idea what that means.

"You wish," Don snorts, glancing over at them curiously then turning his attention back to Callum. Before he can say anything else, though, Bruce sticks his head around the doorway.

"Good news, gang," he says cheerfully, as though he hasn't just been torturing them for three hours. "Camera's here. Don, Callum, you're up first. Then we'll shoot your scene, Molly." Figures, Molly thinks, shooting Tracy an apologetic look. Oddly, though, Tracy's not paying attention - she seems distracted by something, her eyes staring hotly at an unknown point on the wall opposite their chair. Molly furrows her brow at that and turns her attention back to the rest of the room just in time to hear Don tell Callum that he leads a depraved existence and that he needs to learn the art of subtlety.

For some reason this makes Molly feel impulsive, and before she's even thought it through, she's reached around and grabbed Tracy by the neck, dragging her into a kiss. Molly's pretty sure she didn't mean for it to be a big deal, just a quick peck on the lips to make Don blush and Callum laugh, but Tracy reacts to it immediately. Her mouth opens under Molly's, and it just seems logical for Molly to go with that. That's all. And then there are tongues and a little bit of teeth, and Tracy's hand sliding underneath her shirt and okay. Molly is vaguely aware of the fact that they've caught Callum and Don's attentions, but it's hard to hear what they're saying about it over the rush of blood pounding in her ears.

When they finally part, Molly has to look away because she's extremely flushed and she has no idea why she just did what she did. In the distance she can hear Don and Callum making their way down the hall, Callum loudly protesting.

"Are you fucking blind, McKellar? There were two really hot girls making out back there! Like, really making out." Suddenly Molly is hyper-aware of the fact that she has one hand low on Tracy's waist, but she doesn't make any move to do anything about it. "And you want to know why I'm mad you made me leave?"

"It's not like they're actually going to do anything. They're just trying to wind you up," Don explains patiently, in that knowing way of his that is just Don.

At that, Molly finally glances up at Tracy and the two of them immediately start giggling over the irony of that one. Molly still has her hand on Tracy's neck, which is convenient because their giggles only stop when they start kissing again. She doesn't know which one of them started it this time, just that Tracy's mouth is actually familiar now, and quickly becoming a whole lot more so. And that should be weird, right, because the boys are gone now so the only ones getting riled up are...

Well, the two of them, apparently, and Molly, definitely. She twists in the seat so that it's easier for her to meet Tracy's mouth, deepening their kiss fast as Tracy slides her hand low over the front of Molly's jeans. Her fingers press against Molly's cunt, rubbing through the rough jean fabric, and just like that Molly's entire body is flushed hot and there's a sudden ache between her legs that craves more. Without her even realizing she's doing it, she pushes her hips up against Tracy's hand, and the sudden pressure makes her moan, low in the back of her throat.

"I was going to ask if you wanted me to stop," Tracy says, and Molly doesn't miss the fact that her voice is shallow and light, like she's trying to regain her breath after running to catch the subway. "Or if this was okay. But I guess..."

"It is definitely okay," Molly interrupts, and even though she has never, ever done anything like this with a girl before, it is okay. She'll probably have to think about this more later, and what it all means, but the only thing she's thinking about now is sex. Luckily, she and Tracy seem to have that in common along with everything else, because the words are barely out of Molly's mouth and Tracy is moving them off the chair and onto the floor.

Tracy lays Molly flat on her back and presses up beside her, hooking one leg over Molly's and nudging her legs farther apart. Obviously she's done this before, Molly thinks to herself, but that's as far as she gets with actually thinking because Tracy's got the button of Molly's jeans undone already and the sound of metal on metal fills the tiny room as she tugs down Molly's zipper next. Molly's stomach is fluttering with anticipation, waiting what seems like an eternity for that next touch. It's kind of like being paused on the very top of a roller coaster, one of the ones where you already know it's a steep drop you're facing, and the question isn't what's going to happen, but rather when is it going to happen.

And just like a roller coaster, there's no warning when it does. One second Molly's trying to count the butterflies and the next they're all gone, replaced by steady, sure fingers slipped under the band of her panties and gliding over her cunt. "Oh," Molly gasps, and then bites her bottom lip in embarrassment because that makes her sound like a blushing virgin. Which she is definitely not, but with girls - well, they flew right past her previous experience level before Don and Callum even left the room.

Tracy laughs, but there's nothing mean about it. The sound is low and quiet, and she flashes Molly a happy smile. Molly starts to smile back, but then Tracy does something twisty with her fingers and Molly groans, throwing her head back against the floor as she gasps for breath. It all means the same thing, anyway, she figures, because Tracy doesn't let up. She keeps her touch strong and steady even as she twists around to kiss Molly's neck, her chest, the bare expanse of her throat.

It feels like Tracy is everywhere all at once, and soon Molly's gasps turn into whimpers; she still can't breathe, but that doesn't seem important anyway. Molly can't stop making noise, spurred on by the pleased humming Tracy does against her skin and the amazing things Tracy's fingers are doing to her cunt. All Molly can do is gasp and writhe, rolling her hips up against Tracy's hand, over and over until Molly can feel her release start to rise.

She has no doubt that Tracy could drag it out, and that it would be damn amazing if she did, but Molly doesn't want that. She wants quick, fast, now. "Just - there," she manages to say, and Tracy obediently focuses her movements. It's over fast after that, and Molly comes with a hoarse shout, arching her back off the floor. Tracy keeps rubbing Molly's clit and sucking on her collarbone until Molly collapses in an exhausted-but-satisfied heap, breathing hard and unable to keep the grin off her face.

Tracy slides her hand out of Molly's pants, and Molly finds it endearing that she's blushing a little. That's ridiculous, of course, because Molly - she is anything but embarrassed. She feels good, really damn good, so she grabs Tracy by the belt loops and yanks. She tugs until Tracy is leaning over her, one knee on either side of her hips, then slips her hands up underneath Tracy's t-shirt.

"My turn."
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August 2010

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