Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse-Chapter 46: For Morale 18+ sorta

Marx was the first to break. He’d been the most vocal in his contempt for beastman politics, but also the youngest and least in control of his new beast body. His ears cocked forward with every gasp, arms folded over his knees, but this time the movement underneath him was unmistakable a slow rutting grind as he pressed himself into his own thigh, lip curled up against his canines.

"Hell," he muttered, not even pretending to hide it now. "Can’t they keep it down for five damn minutes?"

"They’re not trying to keep it down, kid," murmured Pope, who was pretending to oil his sidearm but stared at nothing, hands shaking just a little as he worked. "That’s the whole point."

But he nevertheless angled his body away from the others, working the slide in time with the rhythm of Felicity’s rising cries.

Ivan listened to the whole spectacle from the deepest corner of the squad’s hollowed-out camp, arms crossed, expression unreadable behind his pale, half-masked face. He’d seen a lot of men undone by less, and even more men ruined by envy.

For a while, he told himself it didn’t matter the mission was the mission, and if the chimeras in the back wanted to use their civilian for stress relief, let that be their mistake.

But every time Felicity moaned, it rattled through Ivan’s chest like a bullet ricocheting inside a metal chamber, squeezing at something withered and desperate that had been dormant inside him for too long. He had snapped minutes ago, his calloused hand now working frantically inside his pants, teeth drawing blood from his lower lip as he pictured that golden furred fox wrapped around him,

Her scent of wildflowers and rain filling his nostrils. His hips bucked one final time against his palm, muscles tensing like steel cables beneath his skin. He would have her not just her body, but every soft sound, every gentle touch she’d ever given anyone else.

The noise from the other room built and built, the tempo of Felicity’s pleasure layered by the grunts and snarls of the men who claimed her. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

It was music, in its own feral measure, and there was no stopping the inevitability of it: when Felicity’s voice crested, the walls seemed to sag.

Marx made a high, involuntary sound in echo, his whole body seizing up for a half-second, and then he shuddered, biting his own fist. The others weren’t far behind.

Legend held the windowsill so hard it should have cracked, his own hips jerking forward in time to the sounds filtering through the plaster.

When he finally came no other word for it a low, pleased rumble rolled out of him, almost a purr, and his claws shot out, scoring the rotten wood.

Pope, always reserved, simply let out a hard breath and stilled, like a struck bell. After that, the air in the barracks was full of a different kind of tension: quiet, yes, but not the empty kind.

Tommy, of course, ruined it.

"Oh,"

he said loudly. "So that’s Next time is Our-"

Victor ran back in and smacked him without looking. Tommy yelped. "EVERYONE WAS JUST THINKING IT."

An hour later felicity emerged.

Felicity hid around the corner and buried her face in Victor’s chest. "I’m sorry," she mumbled. "I didn’t mean to"

Victor tipped her chin up with two fingers. His expression wasn’t okay

It was... darkly amused.

"Careful," he murmured. "You forget how dangerous you are." She blinked at him.

"Yes," Damien said softly from behind them. "That’s the problem."

Tommy, hyperactive to the bone, was already pouring buckets of water into the scavenged metal basin that served as their bathtub. The old tub was battered to shit but deep enough for Felicity to vanish up to her ears and that was all Tommy cared about.

He wanted her safe. He wanted her comfortable. He wanted to see her laugh, real and unguarded, and if that meant hauling jugs of rainwater warmed over a plasma torch, he’d do it without even a whine.

She barely fit into the room, wedged between the cracked tile and what had once been a shower pillar. Her knees bunched up, ears dripping like wilted dahlias.

Tommy dumped the last kettleful into the tub, steam hissing, and immediately turned away, whistling badly and busying himself with the saturated towels.

Victor, after a wordless survey, fetched a stained bar of hotel soap and dropped it in Felicity’s hands. The action was gentle but final, as if to say: use this, not your sleeve.

When the door clicked shut, she sagged under the heat, letting it soak every joint, every ligament. Water ran over the bruises and the tiny half-moon bites on her thighs. She washed, slow, blunt-nailed, and beneath the silt she found her own skin again new, tingling, marked in so many languages. Her face was still hot but she scrubbed it anyway, until she felt human again. Or whatever counted.

She dried off Tommy had slid a towel in, averting his eyes as if she’d go feral and bite if he looked too long. Her clothes were gone, replaced by a scavenged t-shirt that said "WORLD’S BEST DAD" and boxer shorts that hung off her bones. She didn’t even care; it felt like armor.

When she emerged, the team tried not to stare, but their hunger had mutated. They watched her, not like prey, but like something mythic: a tiny sun, clean and alive and impossible in a world that wanted only rot.

Felicity planted herself at the edge of the common area, where everyone could see and smell the evidence of her Escapade.

She stood a little taller, nostrils flaring as if daring anyone to mention it. Her tail fanned out, proud and immaculate, and for a moment no one dared look at anything but her feet.

She cleared her throat.

"Tomorrow is the big boss fight, so..." she smoothed her hands over the t-shirt, cheeks glowing, "bed. For all of us. No exceptions."

Even Victor looked a little chastened. Tommy beamed so hard his face almost split.

She padded past the men Tommy and Voss gave her a thumbs up, Damien inclined his whole head and made for the sleeping rolls. She fluffed her nest, curled into the fabric, and let the world bleed out around her.

She did not think about how many sets of eyes watched her until she fell asleep.