Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 116: Covered 18+

Ivan meant to finish in a single, soul shattering burst a final, carnal gift for the trembling fox girl who’d given herself so sweetly to their hunger. Instead, he barely lasted two more thrusts. The tightness and heat of Felicity’s body, stretched wide around him and still squeezing, clamped down with desperate, involuntary pulses. His knot threatened to swell. He groaned, "Fuck, sweetheart gonna—" and then it was happening, his release painted in white-hot waves inside her, her little body shuddering with every twitch.

Victor, feral and victorious, had her chin in one hand and his cock in the other, guiding the tip over her lips. "Open," he growled, and she obeyed, kisses eager and clumsy, her tongue painting swirls around the head while her body still clenched on Ivan’s cock. Her own pleasure was screaming and moaning almost mewling, tears slicking her cheeks, messy with drool and cum. Even then, even broken, she was perfect.

Damien’s snarl split the air. "Ivan, lift our sweet girl bring her up for me."

Ivan’s hands went to Felicity’s soft thighs, lifting her off his cock. She whined at the sudden emptiness, but then Damien’s tail dexterous, black and glistening wound around her waist. He eased her down, impaling her on both of his cocks: one thick shaft sliding into her gaping pussy, the other poised at the slick, puckered ring of her ass.

"Oh god, Damien!" Felicity’s voice was a hoarse, breathless sob. She trembled, caught between fear and want, back arching as the second cock breached her. "I can’t, please—"

Damien’s forked tongue flicked against her ear. "You can. You want it." He pressed forward, both cocks splitting her open, and she screamed. He shushed her, stroking her belly, "Good girl, take it all. I like my little fox full."

Ivan, still hard and leaking, steadied her shoulder, his other hand brushing the tears from her cheeks. "You’re so beautiful like this," he murmured, voice thick with reverence and lust.

Victor, denied her mouth, moved around behind Damien, gripping his cock at the base, watching her abused pussy fill and overflow. He spat in his hand, smeared it over himself, and lined up next to Damien’s cock, sliding it into the ruined, cum-dripping pinkness. "Fuuuck," Victor groaned, the word like a prayer. "She’s perfect."

The pressure of three cocks in her tiny body broke something in Felicity. Her magic, writhing and bright, spilled out in wild arcs of energy. Voss, still collapsed at her side, caught the spastic bursts on his tongue, feeding on her, the taste of her power making him shiver and come just from the sight, he came all over her breasts.

"Don’t stop, please don’t stop," Felicity begged, her thighs twitching, hands gripping Ivan’s biceps like lifelines. Damien’s tail kept her steady, pistoning her up and down, their movements synchronised and relentless.

Ivan pressed a line of kisses up her throat, whispering, "Let go, sweetheart. We’ll catch you. Always."

Voss, mouth slick and smiling, bent to taste her again this time, lower, lapping at the mess on her belly and between her thighs. He found her clit, swollen and desperate, and sucked gently. Felicity’s eyes rolled back. She convulsed, shaking around them all, the room humming with the aftershock.

Damien seized her hips with both hands, claws dimpling the pale skin. Felicity sucked in a whimpering gasp as he slammed her down, impaling her on the full double girths. "That’s it, little fox, milk it," he growled, his jaw working with the effort not to rip her in two. Her insides fluttered and spasmed, slick, overstretched, greedily clutching around every inch.

The others were a chorus of hands and mouths and low, primal noises. Ivan’s cock was a sticky, throbbing heat against her jaw, painting her chin and cheeks. Victor clamped on her shoulder from behind, biting down hard enough to welt the skin, his shaft nudging alongside Damien’s, both stuffing her until cum leaked from every possible angle, thick and copious, splattering down her thighs and pooling beneath her.

Felicity screamed. Not in fear or pain, but pure, involuntary ecstasy. Her body bucked and thrashed, every muscle straining, her back arching until she thought she’d snap in half. Energy coiled in her gut, an electric rush that ran up her spine and exploded behind her eyes. She lost any sense of herself in the torrent: her only reality was the relentless pounding, the fullness, the taste of salt and musk as Ivan buried himself in her mouth and spilled hot down her throat, the iron tang of Victor’s teeth in her skin, the impossible, exquisite pressure of Damien inside her.

For a moment everything was sound and light: their hoarse cries, the wet slap of flesh, the universe narrowed to the heat and the friction and the frantic, helpless need. She came, and came again, and it was as if her own mind vanished, replaced by roaring white static.

Damien hissed, hips snapping, and finally came violent, a flood that filled her so utterly that it overflowed, jets of hot seed gushing out around the seal of his cocks.

The Victor, not to be outdone, let go with a guttural snarl, and the sudden extra pressure pushed Felicity over again, her scream ragged and joyous. She convulsed, jaw slack, barely aware as Ivan and Voss leaned in, desperate to mark her final, ruined state. They stroked themselves over her face and breasts, cocks twitching, spilling rope after rope of thick, pearly white, streaking her from hairline to collarbone.

It was obscene, the way she took it: her delicate, foxlike features awash in fluids, neck and chest smeared and dripping, pink pussy and ass pumped full and leaking down her thighs. Still she trembled, greedy for every drop, eyes glassy with exhaustion and lust.

When it was over, for a long moment there was only the sound of their collective panting and the slow, sticky drip of seed from her body. Voss caught her before she collapsed, cradling her gently. He licked the mess from her cheeks and lips, humming to himself, almost tender. Ivan drew a blanket around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple and smoothing her hair back from her sticky face.

Victor, sated, nuzzled into her neck, hands broad and steady at her waist. "You did so well, sweetheart," he rumbled, voice hoarse but gentle. "You’re made for us."

Damien, pulling her carefully off his softening cocks and settling her in his lap. She whimpered at the loss, but curled instinctively into his chest, blinking up at him, dazed and blissful.

Victor murmured, "We should clean her up. She’s barely conscious."

Ivan scooped her up, bridal style, and she clung to him with the last scraps of her strength, nuzzling into his neck. "Good girl," he praised, and she basked in it, floating on the afterglow. "Shes going to smell like us for days." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Voss met her eyes, pupils blown wide, and said, "Never seen anything so beautiful in all my life." He meant it, and she believed him.

That was the last thing she remembered before darkness, sweet and forgiving, claimed her.

Damien nuzzled her ear and whispered, "Sleep now. You’re safe."

Just entirely, thoroughly exhausted.

Her body melted into the bedding like her bones had dissolved. Hair tangled across her cheek. Skin flushed, overheated. Breath slow and heavy.

He stilled immediately, the others did too.

For a moment the room held that quiet, electric pause that always came after something intense. Then Victor moved.

He gathered her up carefully, one arm beneath her shoulders, the other beneath her thighs. She didn’t stir. Her head tipped against his chest, mouth slightly parted, lashes damp against her skin.

"She’s fine," he said before anyone could ask.

His voice was steady.

But his jaw was tight.

Four against one.

Even if she had been willing.

Even if she had demanded it he did not like seeing her this drained.

He stepped into his space without another word.

The shift was seamless. Cool air replaced the thick warmth of the room. The stream inside his space ran clear and steady, shallow enough to kneel in, fed by something that felt older than the collapse of cities.

Victor lowered himself into the water first, boots discarded, shirt gone, then eased her down into his lap so the stream could run over her skin.

The water caught the evidence of what they had done and carried it away without ceremony.

He moved slowly.

One hand supported her head. The other traced down her shoulder, her ribs, her hips, rinsing without urgency. Not possessive now. Not demanding.

Careful.

Her ears twitched faintly when the cool water touched her. She made a small, soft sound and burrowed closer to his chest even in sleep.

Victor exhaled.

"You’re reckless," he murmured, though there was no anger in it. Only awe.

She had taken them all and then fallen asleep like a kitten in sunlight.

He brushed damp hair back from her face. Cleaned her carefully, methodically, making sure there was no irritation left on her skin, no salt drying, no discomfort waiting for her when she woke.

He hated that she trusted them so completely.

He loved that she did.

The stream carried away everything except the faint bruises already blooming along her thighs and hips. He frowned at those. His thumb traced one gently.

Mine, his instincts said, too much, another part of him answered, he lifted her from the water once he was satisfied, wrapped her in one of the soft blankets he kept folded along the bank. She stirred this time, barely.

"Victor," she mumbled, voice slurred with sleep.

"I’m here."

She didn’t open her eyes. Just pressed her face against his chest again, fingers curling weakly against his shoulder.

"Mm. Good."