A Perfectly Good Reason
Marcia begins to realize what just happened as she and Felicity walk offstage, still hand-in-hand. As the surprise wears away and her brain regains the ability to function at a higher level, the smile slips off her face.
"Felicity!" she hisses, tightening her hold on her castmate's hand and tugging her closer. "What were you doing?"
Felicity sways against her in the hallway, heedless of the people passing them. They all touch, everyone in the cast, casually, constantly, but this is different, and it worries Marcia.
"What do you mean, what was I doing?" Felicity asks, not bothering to lower her voice. "I was just finally overwhelmed by your beauty, I suppose." She smirks at Marcia.
"Hush!" Marcia says sharply. She yanks Felicity out of the hallway through the nearest door; they end up in one of the lavish bathroom suites. Good. She locks the door behind them.
She turns, and Felicity is watching her with an odd half-smile that causes her stomach to clench up again, the butterflies she'd fought on stage returning with a rush of nerves. She tries to sound angry, but knows she fails.
"Felicity, you kissed me! In front of a huge audience!" she says, her shock still evident in her voice. "Why? I mean, my publicist is going to have my fucking skin." She sags back against the door and buries her face in one hand, envisioning another round of cover-ups, denials, and avoidance.
There's a light touch on her arm, and suddenly Felicity is there, her eyes soft with concern. "Marcia, hey, it's not going to be that big of a deal," she says reassuringly. "It'll get written off as a publicity stunt and forgotten by the end of the week. I promise." She grasps Marcia's hand in both of hers, squeezing it gently.
Marcia looks up, her worry fading. "You think so?" she asks, wincing at how in need of reassurance she must sound. Felicity nods, and Marcia relaxes; if Felicity says so, it must be true.
Her question hasn't been answered, though, and as Felicity's fingers entwine with hers, she repeats it softly. "But... Felicity, why?"
Felicity doesn't answer right away; instead, she reaches up and brushes her fingers over Marcia's lips. When she pulls them away, they're smudged with lipstick, and Marcia feels her face heat in a rush. She thinks, suddenly, that she might be looking forward to going home and seeing the pictures that surely must exist of her with Felicity's lipstick smeared over her mouth.
"I told you," Felicity says, moving closer until she's pinning Marcia against the door with her body. Their dresses brush together, and the swish of the cloth sounds surprisingly loud in Marcia's ears; she feels shivers run down her spine in response. "I've been wanting to kiss you all year.
"All year," she says again, sliding her hand into Marcia's already-mussed hair. "Every time you pecked me on the cheek at an awards show or put your arm around me in a photo shoot. Whenever you showed up on set wearing that ridiculous fur coat and that tiny lingerie. Almost every time we were rehearsing together, I wanted to kiss you for real."
And she does. She twines her arm around Marcia's neck and brings their lips together, and this time, no one else is watching.
Marcia moans into the kiss. She's been a little in lust with Felicity since before filming started, and now she feels as though fantasies she never realized existed are suddenly coming true. She wraps her arms around Felicity's waist and pulls her closer, reveling in the feel of their bodies together; it's been too long since someone this beautiful was in her arms.
After an eternity, Felicity pulls away. It's still not long enough, but they're both breathing heavily, and Marcia can feel warmth pooling wherever Felicity's skin touches hers. She doesn't want to look up, afraid one of them will come to their senses and break the spell. Instead, she buries her face in Felicity's neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume before biting gently at the skin above her necklace.
Felicity gasps, and her hands slide caressingly across Marcia's breasts. "Was it better with no one watching?" she asks in a whisper.
Marcia smiles against Felicity's neck and licks a long, slow stripe up to her ear. "I'm not sure yet," she murmurs. "I might have to try again." Felicity giggles, but Marcia swallows the sound with her own mouth and focuses on making Felicity dizzy.
"Yes," she says eventually, speaking against Felicity's wet lips. "Much better."
Their legs are entwined, and Marcia whimpers at the loss of pressure as Felicity drops to her knees. But then Felicity's nimble fingers slide Marcia's sash through her buckle and ease her dress open, and a draft of cool air causes goosebumps to ripple across Marcia's overheated skin.
Felicity hooks her fingers in Marcia's underwear and eases them down to the ground, then drags her fingernails back up Marcia's legs and grasps her hips. She rests her cheek against Marcia's flat stomach, looking up into her wide eyes. "Hold on to something," she says with a small grin.
Marcia's hands flutter through the air, resting on Felicity's head for only an instant before some tiny part of her brain remembers that once they leave this room, there will be cameras. While her own hair has been a hopeless cause from the moment Felicity first touched her, Felicity's updo should stay in place. She fists her hands in the silky fabric of her gown. At the first touch of Felicity's tongue, she flattens her back against the door and hopes that she will be able to stay upright.
Marcia can hear the small wet sounds that Felicity's lips and tongue and, oh, fingers are making, and she can hear needy whimpers coming from her throat, but above it all she can hear the muted rumble of dozens of backstage workers outside the door she is leaning on. The air of danger that surrounds them only heightens Marcia's arousal, and she knows that she is close to climax.
She arches against Felicity's fingers and bites down on her lower lip to stifle a cry. "Ah... Felicity, please," she forces out, keeping her voice low only with an effort. Felicity twists her fingers, does something with her tongue, and Marcia throws her head back and comes with a full-body shudder.
She sags down onto the floor, sprawling obscenely in front of Felicity, but too spent to care. Her eyes slowly focus on Felicity's face, and she shudders again when Felicity licks her lips in obvious pleasure. She leans forward, meeting Felicity's lips in a messy kiss, and hums in satisfaction. All of her earlier tension has melted away.
Felicity stands. "Time to make nice with the press," she says, offering her hand to help Marcia up. She stops at the mirror, washes her hands, while Marcia struggles to rearrange her dress decently.
"I'll go first," Felicity says, gesturing towards the door. She reaches out and adjusts Marcia's neckline, fingers drifting lightly over her skin, before she steps away. "I'll see you back at the hotel," she says firmly, before leaving.
Marcia glances at herself in the mirror, smoothes away a few wrinkles, re-applies her lipstick, until she is sure her breathing has steadied and she is presentable. There's nothing she can do about the glow on her face, though, or the smile that hovers on her lips. As she leaves the room, she thinks that maybe she's found the trick to getting through the press junket without frustration; maybe she just needs something to distract her.
She's looking forward to testing her theory later that night.