43 Degrees Celsius




43 Degrees Celsius

by brooklinegirl

brooklinegirl@gmail.com

NC-17

8/2006


Hugh Dillon/Callum Keith Rennie/Molly Parker. Hugh visits Callum on the set of Suspicious River.
Thank you to Malnpudl for the inspiring prompt! And thank you to estrella30 for some particularly vivid imagery of Callum/Molly that did a GREAT DEAL to drive the sex scene in this.

Thank you to justbreathe80 and isiscolo for SPECTACULAR betas. You both found different issues that all needed fixing.

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Hugh is all over the idea of girls who are into Callum. There is nothing about that that isn't hot. Chicks like that, who want to fuck Callum, that just shows they just appreciate Callum and how fucking hot he is. Hugh knows that; Hugh is right on top of that. So that's not a problem.

He leans back against the wall, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and letting his head drop back, watching the filming through slitted eyes. Hugh has no clue what this fucked-up movie is about, but Jesus, Callum's good at what he does. He shuts himself off before filming, just before a scene - wanders away from everyone and smokes and rocks on his heels, just he looks off into the distance and when he turns around ready for filming, there's this weird, dead look in his eyes that sends a shiver down Hugh's spine. Fucking creepy, man, and it makes Hugh happy that Callum shakes it off right after the director yells, "Cut!"

Hugh watches as they finish the scene, the director giving them notes for tomorrow's filming. Callum and Molly stand there talking quietly together, and Molly leans in close for a second, saying something that makes Callum break into that wide-open laugh he gives. Molly tilts her head to the side, grinning, and Hugh, crushing his cigarette underneath his boot and strolling in their direction, thinks that she has a perfect blowjob mouth.

"What's up, kids, you done for the day?" He nudges against Callum's shoulder and Callum shoots him a grin. Hugh notices that Callum still has his hand resting on the small of Molly's back.

"Free, yep." Callum lifts his cigarette to his mouth and tilts his head at Hugh. He's put on weight for this role. He's not heavy by any means, he just has more meat on his bones, gives him a little more heft, makes him look weirdly tough. His hair is longer too, grown in thick, and it falls over Callum's forehead when he's not paying attention.

He's still touching Molly. Hugh lifts his chin. "You make a pretty good psychopath," he says to Callum.

Callum shrugs. "It's a gift."

"Yeah, I bet." Hugh pats his pockets, pulls out his cigarettes again. "You want to get dinner?"

"Food, sure, yeah." Callum looks at Molly. "Join us?"

Fuck. Hugh flies here to the set of this stupid indie movie where Callum is probably making, like, fifty bucks and free lunches from dining services, and now he has to deal with this fucking girl hanging all over Callum, instead of having Callum for himself.

"Yeah, no problem, Molly, fucking join us," he drawls, letting his eyes flick over her and then dismiss her.

She looks at him, raising one eyebrow high. Her gaze flicks over him, coolly, and he gets a sudden chill, like she knows everything about him, about Callum, about Midori and don't ask, don't fucking tell policies, and even what he looks like naked; and he thinks, not to put too fine a point on it, that he comes up short.

She waits a beat too long, then says, "Sure, I'll come along. Why not?"

Callum grins and tugs her close, his arm around her waist. "Fantastic."


So yeah, they head to lunch. Callum wants to stop off at his trailer to change his shirt, and Molly peels off at hers to do the same, so Hugh just follows Callum right into his trailer. It's fucking tiny; Hugh has to actually press up against the miniscule table built into the wall in order for Callum to get past.

"How was the flight down?"

Hugh'd arrived right in the middle of filming, so he'd just gotten a chance to say hi before Callum was called into his next scene.

"Not bad. Quick." Hugh's distracted; Callum's shrugged out of the plaid shirt he'd been wearing for filming, and is bent over the tiny sink wedged between the fridge and the door to the bedroom, scrubbing the make-up off his face. His back is one long, smooth curve, and the weight looks good on him, smoothes the edges of his rib cage that are usually visible when he bends like that. Or when he's on his hands and knees in front of Hugh, head bent low.

Hugh likes him like that. He gets up and takes the three steps necessary to be flush up against Callum. Callum acts like he doesn't notice, like he's not paying any attention to Hugh's hands on his hips, Hugh's thumbs rubbing softly up against the skin right on his waist. Hugh's crotch is pressed up against his ass, his cock hard and getting harder. He finishes rinsing off, but when he lifts his face, dripping water, he's got a hot look in his eyes, a half-smile on his face. "Miss me?" he says, sounding amused.

Hugh growls a little, low in his throat. "Missed this," he says, pressing his hips forward hard enough that Callum has to brace himself on the edge of the sink with both hands to keep from falling forward.

"Yeah." Callum's voice is low, his head bent, his eyes shut. Hugh watches him in the mirror above the sink as he presses against him, his whole world down to the press of his cock against Callum's ass, and thinks that yeah, you fucker, I fucking missed this, how 'bout you, huh?

There's a knock on the metal door, ringing sharp and tinny, and Hugh jerks away from Callum so quickly that he bangs the back of his head against the closet door that is way too close behind him. "Fuck." He glares at Callum, who is straightening up, grinning at him in the mirror for a second before turning to get the door.

Hugh's adjusting his cock in his pants as Molly comes in, and she lets her gaze drift down before giving him another raised eyebrow. She's combed out the stupid Farrah Fawcett hairdo she has for the movie, and she looks better, less creepy. Callum slides his hand around her waist and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

Hugh blinks. Are they fucking?

Molly says lightly, "Are we ready to go?"

"Let's go." Callum has pulled a clean t-shirt off the shelf in the miniscule closet, and tugged it on. It's worn soft and you can barely see the logo on the front. Callum doesn't like new clothes; he likes them to be worn in, comfortable. Hugh knows that. He wonders what the fuck Molly is thinking right now, about him and Callum, about her and Callum. Are they fucking?

Not that it's any of Hugh's business. Not that he cares.

They end up at a diner not too far from the set, a diner like every other fucking diner in all of fucking Canada. At least it's not a Tim Horton's, which as far as Hugh's concerned makes the worst coffee known to man. It's a trashy little place, but it's pretty empty on a Tuesday night, and the waitress keeps their coffee filled and doesn't talk to them and Hugh almost doesn't even notice that Callum and Molly sit on one side together. That just means that Hugh can lean back and stretch his legs out along the seat. He's fine with it, mostly.

Hugh asks them how the filming's going. "How fucked-up is it, for you to be smacking her around on camera? That’s not buddies."

Callum grins, tilts his head as he crushes out his cigarette. "She's in charge, man. Besides, she can totally take me in real life."

Molly shoves at him with her elbow, and helps herself to a cigarette from the pack. "It's just a role, that's all."

Hugh watches how easy they are together. "Yeah, but, like, with Callum and me on Hard Core Logo, we sort of got really into it, you know? Made it weird to switch back sometimes, at the end of the day."

Molly breathes out, smoke curling up around her face, and smiles. "We've worked together before. We're good at this."

"Yeah, but is it weird at all?"

Molly rolls her eyes. "After doing Kissed, nothing's going to disturb me."

Hugh looks at Callum, who's lighting a fresh cigarette. "Kissed?"

Callum clicks the lighter shut, and leans his head back, blowing out smoke. "Necrophilia movie." He grins over at Molly. "She fucked corpses."

Hugh looks back to Molly with new respect. "Huh."

She grins at him. "I know, right?"

They all drink too much coffee. Callum himself drinks six cups - Hugh counts - and he's off at the bathroom yet again. Hugh's slouched back low in the booth, and he's regarding Molly with lidded eyes. "So, you and Callum."

She blinks at him slowly. "Yeah," she says, like he asked a question. Which he didn't. He's pretty sure he doesn't even want to know.

"Are you -"

She cuts him off. "Are you?"

He scowls at her. "What do you think?"

She blows out smoke at him, open-mouthed. "I'm just trying to decide who's the bottom."

"We trade off," he shoots back, and she grins at him, nodding.

"Yeah," she says, "We do, as well."

Hugh chokes on a mouthful of smoke for just a second, but then he breaks into laughter, and reaches over to shake her hand. She slips her hand smoothly into his, and when Callum comes back to the table, he stands there for a second, his hands in his pockets, looking back and forth between the two of them. "What?" he says warily.

Hugh and Molly just burst out laughing again, and Callum shakes his head slowly. "I'm in trouble here. I should never have let you two meet." He slides into the booth, sitting down next to Hugh this time and pressing their shoulders together.

Molly just grins at them as Hugh lights another cigarette and waves the waitress over for a refill.


The dynamic between the three of them is weird, or should be. They're wandering back to the trailers, and Molly's walking ahead of Hugh and Callum. It's dark out; Callum is just a dim shape beside Hugh, his cigarette a deep orange glow against the black. "She's pretty cool," Hugh says, nodding forward at Molly.

"Yeah." Callum takes a deep drag on his cigarette. "She is."

Hugh's silent for a few more steps, eyeing Molly, who's way ahead of them. He stops Callum with a rough hand on the back of his neck, pulling him around and kissing him. Callum stops, holding his cigarette away from Hugh to keep him from getting yet another burn in his long coat, the one that Callum gave him. Callum kisses Hugh back, intense and fierce, and Christ, Christ, it's been so fucking long, so damn fucking long since they kissed. Hugh's heart is pounding and he's got his arms wrapped around Callum, tugging him closer, closer still, pressing his tongue into his mouth and loving this, fucking loving this, being surrounded by Callum, the scent, the taste of him, his coat rough under Hugh's hands, as he shoves it aside, slips his hands around Callum's waist.

He has no fucking clue how much time has passed, as they stand there wrapped up in each other in the chilly night air. He's half-expecting Callum to yank away any second, half-expecting him to say something about Molly. But Callum just sinks into it, and it's good, it's so fucking good.

When they finally stop, have to, have to fucking breathe, Callum's cigarette is burned down, near to scorching his fingers, and he bends to crush it out carefully beneath his boot, keeping hold of the butt afterwards to throw away. He stands up, looks over towards his trailer, a couple of hundred yards in front of them. Molly is leaning up against it, one leg bent so her foot's resting against the door behind her. She's got her hands tucked deep into her pockets, and she's making a show of not looking in their direction.

Hugh takes a breath - the cold wind feels good against his face - and the two of them start walking again. They're quiet for a couple of paces, then: "Think she was watching?"

"Oh, yeah," says Callum, ducking his head and grinning.

Yeah. Fantastic.


By the time they get back to the trailer, Molly has slipped inside. The trailer's one long, narrow room, and instead of wedging herself into one of the uncomfortable benches at the table, she's curled up on the bed. She's drinking something that Hugh bets isn't in any way alcoholic. He doesn't drink around Callum much, either. She's all long legs and arms, tucked around herself, watching the two of them navigate their way into the trailer.

Hugh is struck again by how good her mouth would look wrapped around a cock. Wrapped around Callum's cock, he can't help but think, from the way they look at each other, touch each other, act, like they're so aware of each other, so comfortable. Like this is something they do all the time. Like the way Hugh and Callum have their particular arrangement. So do Callum and Molly, and ain't that a fucking shock to the system?

Hugh leans against the counter, watching Callum get a bottle of water from the fridge, then move to sit on the bed next to Molly. He leans back against the fake wood headboard, permanently attached to the wall, while Molly stays curled around herself in the center of the bed. Her knee is nudging against Callum's thigh, and Hugh has to swallow down a mixture of - what? Not like he's fucking jealous; no way is he fucking jealous. He's got a fucking wife at home, he's a fucking married man, what the fuck does he care what kind of pussy Callum's getting on the road?

He's hot, all of a sudden, too damn warm in the trailer, so he strips his coat off, shoves it onto the bench seat of the table, and leans back against the counter again. He rolls up his shirt sleeves, only half listening as Callum and Molly talk about the shooting schedule for tomorrow.

Because here's the thing: Hugh, he's married. He's set. He's found his girl, he's settled down with her, and he fucking loves her. She stayed with him through a whole fucking lot of his bullshit; she stayed with him through more than any sane person would. He loves Midori, he fucking loves her.

And yeah, the Callum thing, well - Midori gets that. Kind of. She knows, but they don't really talk about it. He's on the road, he's with the band, things happen. They just do. The thing is, they actually happen less now that he has the thing with Callum. He calls Midori every night, can't go to sleep without talking to her. Stepped outside the diner earlier tonight even, to give her a call, find out how she's doing, tell her he loves her. She said to say hi to Callum. It's a thing; it's their thing, and it fucking works, so neither she nor Hugh look too closely at it.

Callum, though. Callum's a single guy. He's out there, you know? He could find someone, find someone he wants, someone who's easier than Hugh. Someone not married, someone he really connects with. He's got a world of possibilities out there. But Hugh, Hugh's settled. He's got Midori, and they fucking love each other. They're a sure thing; they're in it for the long haul. And he's got Callum, and he loves Callum, sure. Not in a pussy way, and not in the same way he loves Midori. What he and Callum have is something different and again, it works for them.

Staring at Callum and Molly on the bed, Hugh can't help but think about what it is that they have. They're friends from way back. Fuck, seems like every Canadian actor is friends with every other Canadian actor from way back. But the way the two of them act around each other, god, it seems like all Hugh can think about tonight is them together, all tangled up there on the bed, doing nasty things to each other with their tongues. He's got this fucking vivid image in his head of her kneeling on the ground with her legs spread, blowing Callum, her nails digging into his hips. Callum's head thrown back, his throat curved -

"Hugh. Hugh."

He blinks, comes back to himself. "Yeah, what's up?" he says, going for nonchalant.

Molly is sitting up, her arms wrapped around her legs. "You were just - staring." Her lips are curving slightly in amusement. Callum's grinning at Hugh around his cigarette, like he's thinking about just exactly the same things Hugh was just now.

"I was thinking." Hugh says it slow, like she's retarded. "I do that, every once in a while." He fishes another cigarette out of his pocket.

Callum snorts softly. "Not very often."

Hugh snaps his lighter shut, takes a deep drag. "Often enough, Mr. Rennie."

Molly's got that smile like she knows something. She's like a sexed-up tomboy; like somebody you can drink with now and fuck around with later and never have a single fucking problem with the next day.

"You gonna just…lean all night?" she asks.

"Maybe," he shoots back, but almost immediately he pushes off the counter, moves over to the bed. It's the biggest piece of furniture in the place, and probably the most comfortable. It only makes sense they'd end up here. He sits down, nudging into Callum's space, pressing his knee against his side. Callum grins again and doesn't move away. He's relaxed back against the bed, lying sprawled between Hugh and Molly.

Keeping her eyes on Hugh, Molly leans back, resting her elbow on the bed, propping her head up. Her legs seem even longer, one tilted up in the tight denim jeans, and her elbow is pressed against Callum's shoulder.

She's giving Hugh this look like it's a dare or something.

He takes a breath, is just about to -

God, it's a relief when her cell phone rings. Saved by the proverbial fucking bell.

She slides it out of her pocket, looks at the screen, sighs, and slides off the bed. Things feel less complicated when she moves away. Easier. She's still in the room, has edged over towards the door to take the call, but without her right there, Hugh has no problem rolling over right next to Callum, sprawling out next to him.

Callum crushes out his cigarette in the ashtray resting on the bed. "You doing okay?" he asks, his voice throaty with the smoke he's still holding in his lungs.

"Yeah, I'm doing just fine." Hugh studies Callum's profile. Again, the little bit of extra weight looks good on him. Softens his features just enough. He doesn't look bad just - yeah, softer. That plus the weird dark golden color he's dyed his hair for the role makes him look fucking luminous or something. Draws the eye even more than usual.

Callum's eyes flick to Molly and then back to Hugh, real quick.

Hugh narrows his eyes at Callum, and - very deliberately - runs his hand over Callum's chest. Molly's somewhere behind Hugh; he can still hear her talking softly on the phone. Maybe she's watching them. He really can't bring himself to care. It's been months since he's seen Callum, and he's been half-hard since they made out there in the dusk. He leans forward, slowly. Callum can push him away if he wants to, but that doesn't mean Hugh's not gonna at least fucking try. All he wants to do is kiss Callum. Feels like he's been wanting to do that his whole fucking life.

Callum's eyes don't even flick over to Molly. He just puts one lazy hand on the back of Hugh's neck and pulls him close. He kisses Hugh, his lips soft, his eyes fluttering closed, and Hugh shifts closer on the bed. Kissing Callum is like nothing else, and Hugh slides his leg up between Callum's, feels Callum roll half into him, tugging him closer, closer. God. God. It's too fucking easy with Callum. They're apart from each other for so fucking long, that when they're here, when they get to have each other, Hugh just wants it hard and fast and now, and he could give fuck-all about anything else.

Hugh forgets everything when he's got his tongue in Callum's mouth, forgets the missed phone calls and the months apart and everything, fucking everything.

Until he hears Molly's voice from somewhere close behind them. "Guys?"

She sounds amused, and it's only then that Hugh realizes he's got his thigh up against Callum's cock, got Callum's shirt pushed up, his hand curved over the warm arch of Callum's ribs (warm, Callum's fucking warm for once) and his other hand shoved up into Callum's hair. The two of them, going at it, and Molly - Molly just -

Molly's kneeing her way onto the bed. It shifts underneath her weight, and he knows he should stop, he's going to stop, any second now, any fucking second. But Callum's hand is wrapped in his hair, too, and Callum's moaning these almost-silent moans deep in his throat, and Hugh can't pull his mouth away.

"Jesus," he hears Molly breathe. "You guys - " She breaks off, and Hugh feels her slim, soft hand sliding up Callum's chest, brushing against his own.

He's sort of half-expecting Callum to pull back, come to his senses, you know? Maybe laugh it off or something. He knows better; he knows that's not Callum's way, and that Callum knows exactly what he's doing. But still this is - it's weird, right? Hugh ends up being the one that pulls back, staring down at Callum for a second before taking quick look at Molly.

Molly is looking down at Callum, and mostly she just looks amused. Callum, when Hugh looks down at him, is smiling slowly at Molly, and even though his hand is still up in Hugh's hair, he reaches out his other hand to draw his fingers lightly down Molly's thigh. Molly shivers and smiles this crooked, dirty smile, and leans in closer. Hugh's so distracted watching Callum's hand slip between her thighs as she moves that it's a shock to his system when her mouth closes over his ear, her tongue snaking hot and wet between the silver rings there.

"God." He shudders all over. Jesus, that's -

Molly's moving her mouth away now, bending her head down and kissing Callum's mouth. Hugh's so close her long red hair brushes against his cheek as she shifts, moves so she's the one half on top of Callum, edging Hugh aside. Just a little, but it's enough that Hugh growls at her - he's the one who came all this way. Molly's the one who's gonna have Callum all to herself when Hugh has to leave on Thursday, which is something Hugh really doesn't want to think about. So he growls at her, and starts to push her aside, only things get a little mixed up, and he's not sure how, but Molly is turning to him, licking a long stripe up his throat and then she's kissing him. Or he's kissing her. They're kissing, anyway, and Hugh's sort of confused, but it's a turn-on, okay, it's a fucking huge turn-on.

Because Molly's hot, and Callum's watching.

She pulls back and licks her lips, her wet, wide, God, fucking perfect blowjob lips. "Wow," she says breathlessly.

Hugh's harder than ever, and he just wants something, anything.

Molly's edging back a little, and Callum just lies there, sprawled, and watches Hugh through lidded eyes. He looks serious, now, not so amused. Like he's concerned, like Hugh's a delicate flower or something. Hugh slides back on top of Callum, kissing him roughly, palming Callum's cock through his pants until Callum is moaning into his mouth. Hugh sits back, straddling him, and reaches down to open Callum's belt, slowly. He knows Molly is watching them still - he can feel her off to the side somewhere - but he's looking only at Callum.

"You do this, huh?" he asks quietly, as he thumbs open the button on Callum's pants. He waits until Callum shrugs slowly against the bed, tilting his head a little, before snorting quietly and tugging down his zipper. "You do this with her?" he says, tilting his head in Molly's direction. He knows the answer already. Callum isn't that easy with his touches. He doesn't do it casually, but he's really fucking touchy-feely with Molly.

"Yeah," says Callum, and his voice sounds like he's smoked three packs of cigarettes, which knowing him, he probably has today. He's lying very still, and his cock is hot and hard under Hugh's hand. "And with you."

"I knew that part, dink." Hugh flashes him a quick grin, and strokes him, strokes him steady and slow, just like he likes it. It gets him worked up fast, every time, and Callum hitches in a breath and closes his eyes.

"Jesus," he says, arching his hips up, pressing his cock into Hugh's hand. "Jesus."

Hugh's so fucking hot with this he's dizzy, and he doesn't want to stop, he wants to stroke Callum here, long, hard, steady, until Callum's making more noise than he ever, ever makes, moaning and begging for it before coming, hot and hard, over his stomach and Hugh's hand. He wants that so bad, wants to slide his own achingly hard cock through the slick come on Callum's stomach and just hump him till he comes.

But this here - Hugh takes a deep breath, backing himself the fuck down - this here is an opportunity, and Hugh is a man who tries not to miss those when they're offered to him.

He gives Callum one more stroke, then pulls away, running his thumb over the leaking head of Callum's cock as he does so. Callum's flushed and tense on the bed under him, and Hugh has to pop the button on his own jeans, pull down the zipper, before he's got enough freedom of movement to swing off of Callum. He's so fucking hard.

Molly's on her side on the bed next to them. She's slid out of her jeans at some point, and she's there in just this tiny pair of silky panties, this light, light pink color, just a triangle of cloth. She took off her sweater, so she's just there in her white tank top, Christ, he can see her nipples through it, hard. With her light skin and red hair, wearing next to nothing - God, looking at her just does something to Hugh's chest.

He bets she's wet between her legs, bets her panties are damp with it, just from watching them. He swallows, and looks her up and down, real slow. When he gets back up to her face, she's got her eyebrow up again, and her mouth is curved into an easy smile. "Well?" he says, and deliberately moves away as much as he can, slouching down on the bed and putting some space between him and Callum.

Her smile turns into a grin. "Is that a challenge?" She sounds deeply amused, but it doesn’t stop her from moving closer to Callum. She looks down at him. "He's challenging me," she informs him.

Callum settles back further on the bed, seems to deliberately relax back into it, looking completely cool, completely collected, as though it's not even weird that his cock is curving out of the V of his pants, as though Molly's not right there next to him, looking deeply fuckable. "You up for it?" he asks, his voice gravelly.

"You are," Hugh observes, and Callum laughs out loud.

Molly shifts closer and things seem to start moving pretty fast. Hugh doesn't know where to look: at Molly's slim hand wrapping around Callum's cock, at the slack pleasure that crosses Callum's face as she strokes him. At Molly's tight ass as she shifts further on top of Callum, or at the intensity with which Callum kisses her, sinking his tongue deep into her mouth, making Hugh's own mouth water as he watches them move against each other.

They do this so easy, and it's clear that they know each other, that Callum knows that Molly will moan and thrust against him as he strokes the small of her back before slipping his hand down the back of those pink silk panties. That Molly knows, just as Hugh does, that Callum's neck is incredibly sensitive and he loves when you bite it, but can't stand it when you leave hickeys. It's a narrow line, there, and Hugh's never been the best at not crossing it, but Molly seems to be doing a damn fine job. She has the mouth for that too, from the way Callum's panting, with his head thrown back, leaving the long line of his throat open to Molly's mouth.

Jesus. Hugh's got his hand wrapped around his own cock and didn't even realize it. He's jacking himself slowly, slowly, because this is insanely hot, and they've barely even gotten started. "Come on," he mutters real low under his breath, because he's fucking dying to see what comes next.

Molly moves her wet, lush mouth back to Callum's, and Callum moans low in his throat and rolls them over so that he's on top. It takes some adjusting - the bed isn't that big - but then Callum's on top of Molly, pausing to shove his pants the rest of the way down and kick them off his feet. He gets rid of his shirt at the same time, and then settles down half on top of Molly, his thigh between her legs, rocking up against her. She's moaning, now, and muttering things in Callum's ear that Hugh can't make out, things that are probably dirty, making Callum laugh softly as he shifts so he can move one hand down to stroke along her belly. He pushes her shirt up, and Molly sighs softly, and reaches for it, tugs it off over her head. She has pretty small tits, but it's fucking hot to watch Callum tonguing her hard nipples.

Hugh sits up higher to get a better view.

He gets to watch as Callum's hand moves along the silky edge of Molly's panties, and he glances up at her face. Callum's not kissing her anymore, he's just watching her as she lies there, trembling, his fingers slowly slipping inside her panties. Callum's moving real slow, Hugh can see it from here, and Molly's tense, she's primed, she's waiting for it, and Jesus, Jesus, Hugh can tell the moment Callum's hand actually slips between her legs, over her clit. Her whole body shakes with it, and she moans deep, throaty, fucking sexy, and fuck, Hugh's gonna come before either of them if he's not careful.

Callum's got his hand moving now, stroking her and kissing the edge of her mouth as she moans. Finally, he shifts, moves down her body real easy, and it's like she hardly notices as he moves his hand to tug her panties down and off. Her pubic hair is dark, unexpected against her pale skin and dyed-red hair. Hugh swallows, his mouth suddenly dry, as Callum moves even further down, moving until his face is between her legs on the bed.

Hugh can hardly breathe.

Callum, his mouth fucking inches from Molly, looks over at Hugh, his eyes dark and hot.

Hugh swallows, and breathes out, "Fuck," just as Callum leans in and puts his mouth right up against her. And his tongue inside her, from the way Molly's thighs are clenching, the way her hands are fisting against the bedspread. Hugh watches as Callum's long fingers hold tight to her hips, how his eyes are closed as he concentrates, how intent he is on this, as intent as he was when he was kissing her before.

When Hugh glances up at Molly's face, she's got her eyes closed, trembling on the edge, and he watches her, his hand moving slowly up and down on his cock, watches her as she shakes and trembles and comes, gasping, against Callum's tongue.

"Jesus." Her eyes flutter open, and she tugs lightly on Callum's hair with one hand. "Jesus, Callum, just - "

He moves up her body real easy, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist. He slides up beside her, murmuring something in her ear, and Hugh hears her gasp, "Yeah, just - come on, yeah. It's fine. It's fine."

Callum turns towards Hugh. "The bedside table, the drawer, can you -"

Normally Hugh would snap something about not being their fucking servant boy, but normally he's not so turned on that he can't even breathe right. And besides, he really, really wants to see Callum fuck her.

Which he does. He rolls on the condom Hugh took out of the drawer, and doesn't even hesitate, just gets on top of her and slides right on in to her slick, hot cunt. Hugh's panting openly at this point, has to keep backing off and not even touch himself, he's so damn hot just from seeing this. Callum fucks her, and it's just the way it was in Hugh's head, Molly's long legs drawn up around Callum's hips, her deep moans mixing with Callum's panting breaths. Jesus, the long length of Callum's back, slick with sweat, how the muscles move and clench as he drives himself into her - Fuck, Hugh's going to be jerking off to this for weeks; he's going to be jerking off to this forever.

Near as Hugh can tell - and Molly doesn't seem to be the type of girl to fake it - Callum makes her come twice more as he fucks her. Hugh's watching, breathless and as desperate as Callum is, more even, as the lines around Callum's eyes deepen, as he starts moaning louder, as he thrusts in deep and stays there, moving his hips just a little as he thrusts deep, deep inside her, and comes with a heartfelt moan.

He collapses on top of her and Hugh feels like he's going to shatter into a million pieces if he doesn't come now, now. He watches, dazed, as Molly pushed Callum gently off of her. She looks at Hugh, and fuck, her eyes have that same hot, wicked, dirty look to them as they did back when she was lying there watching him and Callum kiss. She pushes Hugh down on the bed, and he lets her, he can't do anything but let her, and he's so fucking turned on that his cock is leaking, dripping all over the place, and man, she just laps it up and takes him in her mouth.

"Jesus fuck," he gasps, because he's fucking ready for this, not going to last, not fucking going to last. Not with her hot, wide, wet mouth just taking him, sucking him and making low noises in her throat like she's loving it, and he's panting and talking dirty to her, as her nails clench tight against his hips and she takes him in deep. He can't - He fucking can't - He's -

"God, Christ, I'm -"

She pulls off just as he starts to come, one hand wrapped around him, stroking him steadily and he completely loses it and comes all over her hand and himself.

"Jesus Christ." He's limp, fucking gone, can't move, and then someone's moving up next to him, tilting his head and kissing him, and he moans again, in his throat, as he reaches up, wraps his hand in thick hair. Callum, whose mouth tastes like Molly. Fuck, that's hot.

By the time he manages to get his eyes open, Callum's already got a cigarette lit, and Molly's hunting around on the floor for her panties.

"Looking for these?" Callum leans over, stretching, and snags her panties from where they ended up flung at the head of the bed. He grins at her, twirling them on one finger.

Molly climbs up onto the bed and smacks him on the side of the head, grabbing the panties out of his hand. "Ass," she says, with a grin, getting up and sliding the panties on before heading to the bathroom at the other end of the trailer.

Hugh watches her walk away, then turns to see Callum doing the same, following her with his eyes. He reaches for his own cigarettes "Well, that was a fun time."

Callum just grins at him around his cigarette.


Molly heads back to her own trailer that night. She gives them a wave, tells them, with a crooked smile, to be good, and heads out. Callum's already half-asleep by then - it's been a long day for him, what with the filming and then this - and lets Hugh tug the covers up over both of them. It's fucking cold in the trailer.

Hugh's exhausted, too, but he's twitchy, and he lies awake for a while smoking a couple of cigarettes and reading the dog-eared book he brought with him (Church of Dead Girls, and he's not quite sure he's getting as much out of it as he should; it's a damn fucked-up book and he's been reading it for a month now) as Callum lies beside him, dead to the world.

Even after Hugh shuts off the light and settles down, he can't sleep and he lies there for a little while, looking up at the water-stained ceiling and listening to Callum breathe beside him.

The next morning he wakes up to Callum leaning across him, trying to snag the cigarettes from Hugh's side of the bed. Half asleep, Hugh lazily tongues his nipple, since it's right there, and Callum swats his head. "Quit that." He moves back to his side of the bed, shaking a cigarette out of the pack.

Hugh yawns, stretching, and scratches his chest. He squints at the pale sun filtering in around the shades. "It's fucking early."

"I have to be on set by seven." Callum yawns, too. He's got dark circles under his eyes.

"They're really working you, huh?"

"Nah." Callum takes a drag. "I just don't sleep very well on location."

Hugh snorts, rolling over onto his stomach and pillowing his head on his hands. "You were out like a light last night."

Callum shrugs, rolling on his side too, to face Hugh. "I sleep better when you're here."

Hugh's silent for a second. "Huh."

"Yeah." Callum tilts his head to blow smoke up and away from Hugh's face. "I've got to get showered. You gonna get your ass out of bed, come with me?" He studies Hugh's face for a second. "They've got good coffee on set."

"Yeah." Hugh yawns hugely. "I'm up. I'm ready."

Callum grins. "Sure you are."

~end~


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