Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse

Chapter 281: Within Dimitri’s Grasp

He pulled his fingers out and shoved them into her mouth. "Taste yourself. Suck." She did, tongue swirling, eyes locked on his. The sight made his balls tighten. He flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her ass up. His palm cracked across one cheek and spanked hard, the sound sharp in the quiet room. She cried out, pussy clenching visibly. Another spank, then he lined up his cock and slammed it in to the hilt.

"This cunt’s mine," he rasped. "Say it."

"Yours!" Felicity gasped, muffled by the pillow. "Only yours!"

The heat of her grip him like a fist. Dimitri groaned, primal heat flooding his veins. He fucked her roughly from behind, hips snapping, balls slapping her clit with every thrust. The wet sounds filled the air, skin on skin, her juices coating his shaft. He grabbed her tail, wrapping it around his fist to pull her back onto him harder. "Take it. That’s it, good girl. Your cunt’s squeezing me so tight." Felicity pushed back, ears flat, moaning his name like a prayer. Her inner walls fluttered, close already.

He reached under to rub her clit in tight circles, feeling it swell under his fingers. The scent of sex thickened, sweat, her slick, his pre-cum. He leaned over her back, biting her shoulder. "Gonna fill this pussy up. You want my load, my love? Beg for it." She did, voice breaking: "Please, Dimitri- fuck me harder- come inside me- I need you, I want to be yours haaah-"

Dimitri’s control snapped. He pounded faster, the bed creaking, her body jolting with each thrust. Her orgasm hit first- pussy spasming around him, honey eyes rolling back as she screamed into the pillow. The feel of it dragged him over: balls drawing up, cock pulsing as he flooded her deep, hot spurts painting her insides. He kept thrusting through it, pushing his cum deeper, until they both collapsed, panting.

He stayed buried in her, stroking her ears gently now. Fuck, she’s perfect. Felicity turned her head, licking her lips, still trembling. "Again?" she whispered. Dimitri grinned against her neck, already hardening inside her. "Not done with you yet."

Except the hands stroking her ears weren’t real. They were his own, slick and sticky with his own spend, wrapped around his cock on the veranda.

Dimitri blinked. The bed was gone. Felicity was gone. The warm, clenching heat around his shaft was just the grip of his fist, and the wetness he’d felt flooding her was his own cum splattering across the weathered wood below.

He looked down at himself. Still hard, still pumping, the last few ropes of release landing on the deck between his feet. The night air bit cool against his flushed skin.

"Fuck."

He tilted his head back, staring at the cracked wooden boards above him, his cock twitched in his spent grip.

"Just a goddamn illusion," he muttered to the darkness.

It had felt so real. Her scent is warm honey and musk and something floral underneath. The way her pussy gripped him on every downstroke. The sound of her voice broke around his name. His hand had actually been wet from her arousal, or so his brain had convinced him. Now it was just his own mess, cooling rapidly in the open air.

He pulled his shirt, the one he’d balled up and shoved under his belt and wiped himself clean with a grimace. The residue of Felicity’s magic lingered like a ghost in his sinuses, sweet and taunting.

Ridiculous. These visions had been hitting harder lately. Last week, he’d been halfway through burying his face between her thighs in the supply closet before he realised he was actually just sitting on a crate, staring at a mop bucket. The other men agonised about it too, though they wouldn’t want it any other way. Thane grumbling about waking up with his sheets ruined, Dawn punching walls after particularly vivid ones.

The pheromones or bloom she put off when she was aroused did something to their systems. POV-style projections, Sam called them. Like their brains were hijacked and fed a highlight reel of every filthy thing they’d ever wanted to do to her.

Dimitri tucked himself back in and zipped up. His hands were still shaking.

He leaned against the chair and pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, one of the scavenged packs from the old convenience store two blocks east. He didn’t light it; the cubs and fel didn’t like the smell. He tucked it back on his ear; he would use it for trades.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the darkened treeline, his heart still hammering. The afterglow of the vision clung to him like sweat, refusing to evaporate. His cock was still half-hard despite the release, twitching against his thigh with every thought of her.

Focus. He needed to focus, he needed to check everywhere on the manor grounds and set up snow team, and he’d been sitting here for, he checked the angle of the moon, Christ, almost an hour. Doing nothing, just getting himself off like some lovesick pup.

Dimitri pushed off the veranda and started walking. Not toward anything in particular, just walking. The gravel crunched under his boots, the sound rhythmic and mindless, and soon he was circling the perimeter in long, ground-eating strides. One lap. Then another. His legs burned, but his mind wouldn’t settle, so he kept going.

Third lap. His breathing evened out, but his thoughts didn’t. They circled back to the same place they always did.

She’s mine.

He’d said it to Victor today.

"I’m done waiting, Vic."

Victor stared at him for a while but said, "She just got here, we all just got here, she’s pregnant" he hesitated ", but yes. Just take it slow and you know the rules," Victor had said finally. "She chooses, always."

"I know, and she’ll choose me," snapped Dimitri

"Maybe." Victor breathed in deeply. "But pushing before she’s ready won’t help your case."

"I’m not pushing. I’m presenting." Dimitri had leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Every time she walks into a room, I’m there. When she needs something lifted, I lift it. When she laughs, I’m the one making her laugh. I’m already in her orbit, Vic. I’m just gonna move closer."