Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 43: Space 18+

The world in Felicity’s space was nothing like the ashen wilds outside, and it hit Damien like a scented lamp shattered on the stone floor: the riotous bloom, the thick velvet heat of the air, the hush of green things untouched by predators or weather or time.

He barely had time to orient himself before she was leading him by the hand her palm was soft, her grip stubborn through a trellis arched with grapevine and flowers, petals brushing at his wrists and the crook of his elbow. Overhead, fuschia-tongued hummingbirds zipped, wings shuddering, and somewhere deeper in the riot, a bell or chime rang out a thin, clear note.

Felicity’s "house" was a pocket-sized cottage, the whole thing woven from willow branches and the pale sinew of some unknown animal. A wizard’s gingerbread hut, bright with hungry colors and the dense smell of something baking, something caramelizing. She let go of him at the threshold, turned, and regarded Damien with her head cocked to the side so the white feathers in her hair caught the light.

For a flicker, her eyes were completely unguarded. "I hope you’re not disappointed," she said. "I put a lot into it, even the bees."

He stepped through the door; the floor let out a pleasant, resinous creak. The whole place was a single room bed, table, hearth and everything looked handmade, scalloped with pleasant imperfections. There were vases of wildflowers, butter-yellow. On the little table, bunches of dried lavender and lemon balm twined with red string. The bed was enormous and dressed in a riot of mismatched patterns: a patchwork of cabbage roses, navy checks, and the fine lace edging of someone’s grandmother’s pillowcase.

Felicity stood with her heel tucked behind her other ankle, a child’s stance, and plucked shyly at the hem of her dress as if she’d only just remembered she had a body.

"Surprise," she said, her voice a whistle in the thick quiet. Her smile was hesitant at first but broke open, brightening her whole face and twitching the little fennec ears at the top of her head. "I just wanted to spend time with you. No one else. No apocalypse. Just us."

He grinned, sharp but unguarded, the way he only ever was in her presence. "You did all this for me?"

Her cheeks flushed, an impossible pink. She shook her head, but her hands fluttered to her chest.

"Don’t be silly. I did it for me, too. But mostly you. You work so hard, Damien. I thought you deserved somewhere nice to... just sit and be happy..." The words trailed off, and she seemed to lose her nerve, unable to meet his eyes.

She didn’t have to. Her scent something like warm milk and peonies filled the space, and Damien felt the tension in his limbs begin to bleed away.

He let himself sprawl into a chair at the table, cocking an eyebrow when she hovered near him, wringing her hands. He patted his lap, an invitation. "If this is my reward, I want the full treatment."

Felicity’s eyes went huge; her lips pressed together so the corners twitched.

But she obediently clambered onto his lap, knee on either side, her hands fluttering up to wrap around the back of his neck. Her thighs felt impossibly soft, the heat between her knees radiating into his scales. "I think you’re very brave," she murmured. "And I think you make everyone feel so safe, even when you pretend you don’t care." She pressed her forehead to his, her lashes brushing his cheek. "I missed this. Us."

Damien, ever the cynic, found his voice sanded down. "You’re such a sap," he said, but it was warbled, and he nuzzled her jaw, breathing in her hair, the warmth of her.

She pressed a kiss to his mouth, then another, then several more in a scattershot pattern across his cheeks, his eyelids, down his jaw.

When he finally tried to say something else, she caught him by the chin and kissed him harder. She tasted like honey. She tasted like home.

His hands found her hips, squeezing a little, and she giggled, wriggling down until her dress rode bunched above her thighs.

A haze blurred the edges of everything. Existence shrank to the weaving of her fingers through his hair, the press of her breasts to his chest, the sweet friction of her shifting above him. He felt her reach down, knotting up the skirt to expose more pale skin. Just a tease of it, but his hearts kicked up anyway.

Felicity guided his hands to the neckline of her dress and whispered, "Go ahead. It’s just us here." Her voice was candy glass soft, thick with want.

He tugged it down, exposing the gentle slope of her shoulder, the clavicle sharp and vulnerable, the shimmer of gooseflesh where his tongue flicked at her skin.

She moaned, high and breathy, and dug her nails into his shoulder, anchoring herself.

knees between his splayed boots. Her golden hair spilled like frost across his thighs. Damien exhaled a shaky laugh, half-aroused and half-embarrassed by the tenderness in her eyes.

"Are you?" he started, but she was already unfastening his pants, careful and gentle.

She freed him with a reverence that made him blush, even as arousal clouded out most of his thought. She looked up through her lashes, a tiny pink tongue flicking her lips, and murmured, "I just want to take care of you. For once." A tiny smile.

"Just let me."

She wrapped her delicate hands around both pricks long, slightly curved, dark-veined and smiled, eyes glittering.

She kissed the tip of the left one, just the faintest pressure, then flicked her tongue over the slit, catching the bead of arousal there.

Damien groaned, gritting his teeth. She licked a slow line from base to head, tracing the ridges. She alternated, using both hands and her mouth, keeping eye contact the whole time.

The heat of her mouth was enough to undo him, but Felicity savored every second, working him with slow, measured devotion. She peppered kisses up and down the left shaft, swirling her tongue at the tip, then nuzzled her cheek to the right one as she stroked it, humming under her breath. Little moans escaped her as she worked, a soft chorus that echoed around the tiny sun-drenched cabin.

"Look at you," she breathed. "You’re always so strong, so mean, but you melt for me here, don’t you?" Her voice was low and teasing, absolute delight. She pulled one length fully into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she drew him in, slow and deliberate, and Damien’s breath hitched, his whole body tensing in pleasure.

She suckled gently, tongue swirling beneath the crown, while her hands twisted and toyed with the other shaft.

She looked up at him, eyes luminous, lips glossy, and let out a pleased little sound when she felt him throbbing in her mouth. "You deserve this," she whispered between strokes, "for everything you’ve done. For me."

Felicity took her time, slow and worshipful, never breaking eye contact. She built the friction and the rhythm with delicate, precise control, letting the pleasure mount, savoring every twitch and gasp he gave her. When she felt him getting close, she sucked harder, taking him in as far as she could, humming a satisfied little song.

Damien came undone, head thrown back, body shuddering as she coaxed every last pulse from him, swallowing and humming contentedly.

She licked him clean, gentle and affectionate, then tucked him away and crawled back up to sit in his lap, arms around his neck.

He buried his face in her hair, holding her there, letting the aftershocks rumble through him like thunder.

For a long, quiet time they just held each other, breaths syncing, hearts slowing.

"I could stay here forever," Damien muttered, voice muffled.

She laughed, light and pure, and nuzzled into his neck. "Maybe you should," Felicity whispered, kissing his ear. "We could build a real house someday. Fill it with blankets. Or little snakes.

He answered with a snarl and a laugh and another kiss, and the world outside her space could burn for all he cared.

When they finally emerged from the teleportation field, their clothing rumpled and hair askew,

Victor’s eyebrow arched in silent judgment. Beside him.

Voss failed to suppress an amused chuckle.

Then Sarge broke it by leaning back against a pillar. "So," he said, eyeing Felicity, "only beast husbands, huh?"

Felicity’s ears flushed pink. "That’s what it seems like."

Sarge grinned. "Shame. Was hoping for a nap without someone trying to kill me."

She laughed weakly. "Sorry."

He waved it off. "Rules are rules. Apocalypse doesn’t care about fairness."

Tommy popped up between them like a summoned curse. "WAIT. So if only beast husbands can go in, does that mean you can fu—"

Victor didn’t even look.

He reached out and smacked Tommy upside the head with surgical precision.

Tommy went down in a heap. "WORTH IT," he yelled from the ground.

Sarge wheezed. "Kid’s got a death wish."

"Several," Victor said flatly.

Felicity buried her face in her hands, laughing despite herself.

That was when Damien stiffened. Not subtly. His body coiled, attention snapping outward like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. "We’re not alone," he murmured.