Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 124: Full 18+

"Relax," he muttered, voice gone hoarse and cold, "let me in."

He pushed, slowly but with inexorable force, and the stretch made her wail. Her nails bit into his shoulders, her whole body convulsing as she struggled to take him, but her pussy gripped at both cocks like she’d been made for this, swallowing him inch by inch.

Damien nearly blacked out from the sensation.

He pressed her harder into the door, deepening the angle, and buried himself until he couldn’t go further. She was so tight around him he could barely move, but he didn’t need to she was already shaking apart, sobbing his name into the crook of his neck.

He bit her, hard, just above the pulse, and her pussy spasmed. Her entire body seized up and she came, loudly, a noise that echoed through the thin apartment walls and into the hall.

He gave her a bare second to breathe before dragging out, both cocks rippling against her spasming walls, the heads blooming with pre and her own slick, making the next thrust go easier. The next, easier still. It took three, four strokes before he could properly piston into her, and then his rhythm grew feral.

Damien watched where they joined, awestruck, as his two ridged cocks spread her around them, her tiny pink hole stretching to accommodate him, so snug and hot it seemed impossible. Every withdrawal left her gaping, only to be filled again, her body greedily pulling him in with obscene, wet sounds.

"I can’t, fuck, I can’t, it’s too.." she gasped, only for Damien to press a thumb to her jaw and pop it open. He coiled his tail around, the sinuous tip pressing between her lips, slicking its way past her tongue. Instantly she started gagging, eyes rolling back, a thread of saliva stretching from chin to collarbone.

"Shh," he crooned, thrusting his tail in time with his hips, fucking her mouth as ruthlessly as he fucked her cunt. "Good girl, Felicity, take it." He swiped the tip deeper, pushing her limits, until tears streaked her face, but her eyes were shining as she suckled helplessly, needing more, obscene in her hunger.

Her pussy fluttered, squeezing both cocks, milking them, and Damien snarled at the exquisite pressure. His balls slapped her ass on every thrust, and he didn’t let up, not even when she started to tremble, nails raking down hiss back until she drew blood.

He bent over her, caging her with his body, and licked the tears from her face. "You’re perfect," he said, half mad, "you were made to be fucked like this."

She tried to answer his tail muffled any words, but the vibration of her moan traveled straight through, making his cock jerk inside her.

He hammered her against the door, the frame rattling in its hinges, until the world blurred and all that existed was the slick heat of her, the power drunk haze of her submission. Felicity shattered again, back arching, legs locked around his waist, milking him with full body spasms.

Damien grinned against her neck and started to thrust in earnest. He could hear the others out in the hall now Ash’s quiet, deliberate breathing, Sarge’s muffled moan, even Marx’s sharp laugh as he realised what was happening. Tommy sliding down the other side of the door like that would make it feel like she was a little closer, Pope was in the corner hand pumping while he recited the oaths of the light. They were all listening, all getting off on the sounds of Felicity being used.

He didn’t care. He wanted them to hear it. He wanted to make her scream.

He fucked her against the door, hard enough to rattle the hinges, her legs spread wide, her voice hoarse and broken as she begged for more. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, round and perfect, and he bent down to suck one into his mouth while she clawed at his back. He bit the nipple and she howled, nearly tearing the wood from the frame.

Felicity’s mind was gone. She was nothing but sensation, nothing but his.

She latched her teeth onto his shoulder, biting hard enough to taste blood, and the taste made her come again, soaking his cocks and dripping down his thighs. Damien hissed and slammed into her even harder, fucking her until the doorframe cracked and the paint started to chip.

He came with a noise like a dying animal, fangs bared and eyes wild, and filled her with so much cum it leaked out around his cocks in thick, hot waves. Felicity shuddered and came again, her body unconsciously milking him for more.

They stayed like that, pressed together and panting, until the sounds of the others jerking off in the hall faded to silence.

Damien slid out, slow and reluctant, and let her legs down gently. She nearly crumpled, but he caught her and held her close, stroking her hair with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

He didn’t say anything, just pressed his forehead to hers and breathed her in, not letting go.

Outside the door, the rest of the world exploded with noise.

Damien opened the door without hurry. The hallway outside the apartment was already occupied. No one pretended otherwise.

Marx leaned against the opposite wall with his arms folded, gaze fixed somewhere above Damien’s shoulder like the paint was suddenly fascinating. Sam stood beside him with his back half turned, rubbing the heel of his hand slowly across the back of his neck. Legend had planted himself near the stair rail, breathing through his mouth like he had just finished running.

Sarge stood closest to the door.

Not directly in front of it. Not blocking it. Just close enough that the distance looked intentional.

Tommy sat on the floor with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up, hair a mess like he had run both hands through it several times.

Pope stood over him.

Watching.

The hallway smelled faintly of sweat, dust, and the lingering warmth of something the walls had heard.

Damien stepped out carrying Felicity.

She was wrapped loosely in one of his shirts. It hung crooked off one shoulder, collar stretched from where his hands had pulled it earlier. Her legs were bare. Her tail draped lazily over Damien’s arm, the tip flicking once when the cooler hallway air touched her skin.

Her face was flushed, her eyes half-lidded. Not embarrassed, just exhausted just soft.

Damien’s arm tightened fractionally under her knees. He did not look at anyone. He walked past them like they were furniture.

Sarge shifted.

Just half a step forward.

His hands opened slightly at his sides like he was preparing to take her weight.

"I can.."

Damien did not even glance at him.

He kept walking.

Sarge stopped where he was, jaw flexed once. Then he leaned back again.

Tommy squinted up from the floor "I could wash her," he muttered.

Pope slapped the back of his head immediately, hard enough to make it echo down the hallway "You will do no such thing, you do not touch the light"

Tommy rubbed the back of his skull "I’m just saying. I’m very hygienic."

"You are eighteen," Pope said flatly.

Tommy opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

Sam cleared his throat quietly.

Legend shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders back like he was trying to reset his spine.

Marx remained exactly where he was, gaze still somewhere above everyone’s heads, but the muscle in his jaw had locked so tightly it stood out along his cheekbone.

No one looked directly at Felicity.

Not yet.

Damien did not stop walking until he reached the washroom.

The hallway behind them had gone quiet again. Not empty. Just quiet in the way men became quiet when they were pretending not to listen.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder.

Voss was already inside.

He had not moved far from where Damien left him. One hand rested on the edge of the sink, the other loosely folded across his stomach. His posture looked relaxed. His breathing was steady. The only sign he had heard anything earlier was the faint tension along his jaw that had not quite faded.

His eyes lifted when Damien entered, they moved over Felicity first. Then back to Damien.

No surprise. No questions.

Just recognition.

Damien crossed the room and stopped in front of him.

For a moment he simply stood there with Felicity in his arms.

Her head rested against his shoulder. Her tail hung loosely down his forearm. The oversized shirt had slipped further down her shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone and the marks along her throat where Damien had held her earlier.

Her eyes opened halfway when the room cooled around them.

She blinked "Voss." Her voice was soft. A little rough. Like she had used it too much.

Voss stepped forward.

Damien shifted her carefully and passed her into his arms without ceremony.

There was no hesitation.

No negotiation.

Just transfer.

Voss caught her weight automatically, one arm supporting her back while the other settled under her knees. She leaned into him immediately, instinctively, pressing her cheek against his chest like that was where she had meant to be all along.

Her tail curled slowly around his wrist, voss’s breath left his lungs slowly.

"Still awake?" he asked quietly.

"Mm."

Her eyes slid shut again.

Damien turned away toward the door.

He did not linger.

He did not need to.

He knew what came next.

The door closed behind him with a dull click.

Outside, someone shifted in the hallway.

Inside, the washroom was warm and dim.

Voss carried Felicity into the shower room and set her carefully on the low bench beside the tiled wall. She swayed slightly when he released her.

His hand came up immediately to steady her. Her fingers caught the front of his shirt.

She tugged weakly "You smell like soap."

"You smell like Damien," he replied.

She smiled faintly.

"Mm."

Voss turned the shower on and tested the water with the back of his hand. Steam began to gather along the tiles.

When he stepped back toward her, she was watching him through half-lidded eyes.

Or trying to.

Her focus kept slipping.

"You missed me," he said.

She nodded slowly.

"So much."

Her voice drifted with the steam.

Voss crouched in front of her.

"Stand."

She tried.

Her legs obeyed halfway before she leaned forward instead, forehead pressing lightly against his shoulder.

His hand slid around her waist automatically to keep her upright.

She made a small sound.

Not discomfort.

Something softer.

"I missed you," she murmured again, the words muffled against his chest.

Voss’s fingers tightened slightly "I know."

She lifted her head just enough to nuzzle against his collarbone "You should’ve come."

"I was here."

"Still."

Her nose brushed the side of his throat.

"I like when you’re there" Voss exhaled slowly. His hand slid to the back of her neck, steadying her as he guided her under the warm spray.

Water ran over her shoulders.

Down her back.

She flinched once at the temperature before relaxing into it.

Her eyes closed completely this time.