Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 36: The Pit

When the others returned, they found Felicity curled in Damien’s lap, both of them dozing lightly.

Her tail was wrapped loosely around his thigh, the tip twitching in slow sleepy movements. Damien’s chin rested against the crown of her head, one arm curved around her waist like a question he’d already decided the answer to.

Victor took one look and snorted.

Voss shook his head, mouth twitching in resigned affection. Nobody disturbed them.

No one dared.

Morning came quietly, the way it sometimes did when the world decided to be merciful. Felicity woke first, blinking against the dappled light filtering through the shattered window. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air. Somewhere outside, birds argued over nothing important.

Damien was already watching her.

"You’re staring," she said, voice rough with sleep.

He shrugged, pulling her tighter without apology. "Don’t want to forget."

Heat climbed her cheeks. She picked at the hem of the oversized shirt swallowing her frame, fingers fidgeting like she didn’t quite know where to put them now that everything felt different.

"I’m not going anywhere," she promised.

He believed her.

The door creaked.

Voss didn’t announce himself. He never did. One moment he wasn’t there, the next he was reaching in without warning and scooping Felicity up like she weighed nothing. Her tail flared in sleepy confusion, ears flattening as she yelped.

"Time for a bath," he announced, already turning.

Damien’s reaction was immediate and visceral. A guttural sound tore from his throat as he clamped a hand around Voss’s wrist, eyes flashing something sharp and territorial.

Voss glanced down at the grip, unimpressed. He flexed once, muscle shifting under fur, unbothered. "You’re getting her all sticky," he observed, flicking a glance at Felicity’s thighs and the faint, dried traces clinging to her fur. "And she smells like a barn."

Felicity made a noise halfway between a mortified squeak and a laugh, limbs flailing uselessly in the wolf’s cage. "I can bathe myself," she protested, cheeks burning, but even as she said it she burrowed deeper into Voss’s hold, finding the prickle of his stubble and his sheer solidity grounding.

Damien’s eyes burned, something old and serpentine coiling tight beneath his restraint, but he let go.

Victor watched the exchange from the bed, lazy smirk firmly in place.

A minor, silent coup concluded.

Voss carried Felicity down a corridor of crumbling brick and shredded tapestries, past doorways that remembered better days. The bathing room waited at the end, its gigantic marble tub scarred but intact. It had survived two city collapses and at least a handful of species.

When Voss set her down on the cracked tile, he wrenched at the rusted faucet until water gushed out murky at first, then cleared to a faint blue.

He stripped her without ceremony, claws deft but careful at her hips, never rushing, never fumbling. He turned his back while she stepped into the tub, then knelt once she settled, sleeves rolled, posture relaxed.

The water stung.

Her body was tender, raw in a way that went deeper than bruises. Every scrape and ache sang sharp in the chill. Voss poured water over her head in slow cascades, letting grime and salt and clinging remnants sluice away until only heat remained.

He didn’t leer.

Didn’t tease.

He watched her the way he watched battlefields. Fully present. Fully attentive.

After a long silence, he asked, "Was he gentle?"

Felicity ducked beneath the water before answering, ears flattening as she twisted them so they fanned out like silver petals. When she resurfaced, gasping, she nodded.

"Yes."

Voss’s mouth pressed into a flat line. "But you liked it rough."

Her breath hitched. She looked away, suddenly shy. "I didn’t know I could."

He absorbed that, slow and thoughtful, then nodded once. "He’ll be better next time."

She spluttered. "I’m not done with this one!"

"Neither is he," Voss said evenly. "But you shouldn’t overdo. We get only one of you."

He lifted her from the tub and wrapped her in a towel soft enough to feel obscene, the embroidery gilded and pre-fall luxurious. He dried her with careful patience, not missing a spot, then hoisted her again and stalked back the way they came.

"Voss," she hissed, mortified, "you can’t just.."

But he could.

And he did.

He tucked her onto the bed between himself and Victor, sandwiching her so thoroughly the air itself warmed. Damien slithered up behind her, arms wrapping close, possessive without anger.

The four of them congealed into an animal pile.

For a long time, nobody spoke.

Morning fractured through the ruined building, birds calling like the world hadn’t ended twice already.

Victor was the one who broke the spell.

"So," he murmured, fingers stroking her damp ears, "when are you going to let me take my turn?"

Felicity groaned and buried her face in his chest.

Her hands wandered lazily across the men around her, feeling the solid warmth of Victor’s chest, the steady rise and fall of Voss’s ribs, the smooth heat of Damien’s skin.

Then the question escaped before she could stop it.

"Why do all of you want me?"

The three men exchanged looks. Hunger. Amusement. Something older.

Victor answered first.

"Because you never wanted to be wanted," he said softly, "and a world that’s lost everything can’t help chasing what runs away."

Voss nuzzled her nape, a low purr vibrating through her bones.

Damien didn’t speak. He simply tightened his hold.

Later that afternoon, Voss tugged at Felicity’s sleeve and dragged her up to the roof.

The sky burned amber and bruised violet, the sun sinking behind broken towers. Below them the harbor lights flickered on one by one along the defensive wall.

The city breathed.

Felicity leaned against him, her head resting easily against his shoulder.

"I never told you about the pit," Voss said suddenly.

She lifted her head slightly.

"No."

His gaze drifted toward the distant hills.

"I grew up near Dubbo," he said. "Dry country. Dust and fences and people who think anger is the same thing as strength."

His voice stayed steady, but something underneath it tightened.

"My father liked pits."

She waited.

"He’d dig them in the quarry. Deep enough you couldn’t climb out if you fell. Said it was a good way to teach boys not to panic."

Felicity’s ears flattened.

"I fell in once."

The wind tugged at her hair.

"Couldn’t climb out," he continued. "Walls too steep. Gravel sliding under my hands every time I tried."

His mouth twitched faintly.

"My little sister sat on the edge and yelled at me the whole time."

"What did she say?"

"That I was stupid," he said. "And that she’d throw rocks at me if I didn’t climb faster."

Felicity smiled softly.

"Did you get out?"

"Eventually."

He exhaled slowly. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"But once you’ve been in a pit like that, you start seeing them everywhere."

Felicity leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"We’ll climb out together," she said. "Every time."

Voss laughed then.

Sharp.

Real.

And then, quieter, almost to himself, he said "I can feel it again."

Her ears twitched.

"Feel what?"

"The pit," he said.

"Coming back."

For a while neither of them moved.

The wind shifted across the rooftop in long, quiet breaths, carrying the smell of salt and rust from the harbor. Somewhere below them a loose sheet of metal rattled softly against brick, the sound small and hollow in the growing dusk.

Felicity stayed tucked against Voss’s side.

He was warm.

Warmer than the air, warmer than the stone beneath their feet. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing through the thin fabric of his shirt, the quiet strength in it.

Her tail curled slowly around his wrist.

Voss glanced down at it.

"Is that intentional?"

She peeked up at him.

"Yes."

"Why."

"So you can’t run away."

A faint snort escaped him.

"I wasn’t planning to."

"Good."

The silence settled again, softer this time.

Below them the city moved in small, careful rhythms. Lanterns flickered to life along the inner wall. Patrol lights swept slowly across the streets, beams of pale gold cutting through the gathering dark.

People lived here.

The realization still felt strange.

After everything they had walked through, the idea of a place where people simply... existed without constant disaster waiting around the corner felt almost fragile.

Voss leaned his elbows against the low concrete ledge.

"You’re not scared enough," he said after a moment.

Felicity blinked.

"That’s an odd thing to say."

"Most people," he continued, watching the lights below, "would be terrified right now."

She thought about that.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe she should be.

She had walked into a city she didn’t know with three dangerous men who had decided she belonged with them.

She had slept in their arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She had let Damien touch her like she was something precious instead of something fragile.

And somehow none of it had felt wrong.

Felicity tilted her head slightly, "I was terrified," she said.

"Was?"

"Back there," she gestured vaguely toward the road they had come from. "The fog. The warehouse. All of it."

Voss’s ears twitched.

"And now?"

She leaned forward until her forehead rested lightly against his shoulder.

"Now I’m tired."

He huffed quietly.

"That’s not the same thing."

"It is for me."

Her fingers lifted absently and began tracing small shapes along the back of his hand.

Circles first.

Then slow little hearts, the tip of her finger brushing lightly against his skin.

He stilled.

She didn’t seem to notice.

"Victor’s afraid too," she said softly.

Voss glanced down at her.

"That man doesn’t fear anything."

She shook her head.

"Yes he does."

"What."

"Losing people."

The words settled between them.

Voss looked out over the city again.

"Fair."

Her finger traced another small heart against his knuckles.

"And you," she added.

"What about me."

"You’re afraid of falling in the pit again."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"Something like that."

Felicity lifted her head just enough to look at him.

"You didn’t fall alone this time."

He studied her for a long moment.

Then his hand turned slowly beneath hers until his fingers closed loosely around her wrist.

"You’re very confident about that."

She smiled.

Soft.

Certain.

"Because you caught me first."

For a moment something unguarded flickered across his face.

Then he looked away again, staring out toward the harbor lights.

"Dangerous logic," he muttered.

Felicity leaned back against him again.

"Probably."

Below them the city lights brightened one by one as night settled in fully.

Somewhere inside the building behind them Victor shifted, the faint scrape of boots against concrete carrying up through the stairwell.

Felicity didn’t move.

Voss didn’t let go of her wrist.