Chapter 210: Use me 18+
Leaf and Snow team POV
Outside Felicity’s veiled sanctuary, the camp fell into an uneasy quiet. The mountain air cooled as night fully claimed the sky, bringing with it a strange, heavy stillness that settled over the sleeping men.
One by one, they succumbed to slumber, their minds drifting into unconsciousness after the day’s emotional turbulence. But sleep brought no peace.
Sarge was the first to feel it, a warm, pulsing sensation that started at the base of his spine. He shifted uncomfortably in his bedroll, his breathing growing laboured as images formed behind his closed eyelids. golden hair spilling across pale shoulders. Fox’s ears twitch with each thrust.
Across the camp, Marx jerked in his sleep, his claws digging into the earth beneath him. In his dream, he wasn’t standing outside the veil; he was inside it and inside her, his hands exploring every inch of Felicity’s soft skin. He could smell her arousal, taste the sweetness of her mouth as she cried out his name.
Richard’s tail twitched violently as he rolled onto his stomach, pressing himself against the ground with a low whine. In his mind, he watched as Victor pinned her wrists above her head, while Damien’s serpentine tongue traced patterns down her stomach. But it wasn’t just witnessing, he could feel her heat around him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into her, "Oh god, yes! Fuck me harder!" she begged, her voice muffled
Dawn woke with a start from his position at the edge of camp, his body rigid with tension. He tried to shake the images from his mind, but they returned stronger than before. Felicity was on her knees, taking Voss into her mouth while Ivan’s massive hands gripped her hips from behind. Dawn’s breath hitched as in the dream, he felt himself in Ivan’s place, the tight heat of her squeezing around him, he could taste her, really taste her and smell her, and the wetness of her pussy clenching his cock was driving him insane. "Dawn, oh god, stretch me wide!" guttural whine escaping his throat as he ground his hips up, bucking into his hand.
The collective dream spread through the camp like wildfire, consuming each man’s consciousness. The air was thick with the slap of flesh on flesh, the salty tang of cum and arousal. She begged in a crude whisper,
Thane bit through his lower lip to keep from making noise, tasting copper as blood filled his mouth. He couldn’t stop his hand from sliding beneath his waistband, stroking himself in rhythm with the phantom sensations coursing through his body. "Come for me, Thane, flood my pussy."
Tommy was fisting himself in the open. He could feel her warm walls around his cock, he could taste her juices. Felicity was on all fours before him, her ass raised high as she looked back at him with pleading eyes. He could feel the give of her soft flesh beneath his palms, taste the salt of her skin as he licked a stripe up her spine.
"Harder," she begged in his mind, "Fill me up, Tommy"
Inside their minds, they were all with her at once, yet somehow each man was alone with her too, feeling her nails rake down their backs, hearing her whisper their names with desperate need. The shared vision was both torment and ecstasy, as they experienced what it would be like to be one of her chosen six.
Pope thrashed against his bedroll, teeth clenched as he pictured her pressed between his body and Victor’s, taking them both at once. In the dream, her nails raked down his chest as she shattered around them, crying out their names like a desperate prayer. The phantom sensation of her inner walls clenching around him felt so real he could barely breathe.
Kai twisted in his sleep, lips parted as he envisioned Felicity’s mouth stretched wide around him, her eyes watering as she took him deeper, begging for his release. He could smell her, floral and musky and unmistakably female, and he could feel the vibration of her moans around him.
"Use me," she whispered in their dreams, "I’m yours. All of yours."
The collective fantasy built toward a crescendo, each team member locked in the same erotic dream yet experiencing it uniquely. In their minds, Felicity moved from one to another, insatiable and willing, begging each of them for more, harder, deeper.
Dimitri, still perched on his rock overlooking the valley, noticed the change in the camp below. The air had grown thick with pheromones, the sound of rustling fabric and muffled groans rising from dozens of bedrolls. His eyes narrowed, understanding immediately what was happening. The psychic aftershocks of Felicity’s recovery were rippling through the mountain, carrying with them the primal energy of what was occurring behind the veil.
He could have shielded them, could have erected a mental barrier between the camp and the sanctuary. But he didn’t. This was part of the natural order, the reminder to every male that Felicity was claimed, protected, and thoroughly satisfied by her six. Let them dream. Let them ache. Let them understand the depth of what they would never have.
By dawn, the camp was eerily quiet. Men avoided each other’s eyes as they packed their gear, the shared intimate experience hanging between them like an unspoken confession. No one spoke of their dreams, but the evidence was clear in their flushed faces and the lingering scent of release that permeated the mountain air.
Sarge barked orders more harshly than usual, driving the men to work faster, to move with purpose, anything to distract from the night’s shared vulnerability. The journey to Bowral would begin with this strange, unacknowledged bond among them, a silent understanding of their place in the hierarchy.
When the veil finally shimmered and parted, revealing Felicity and her six husbands, a collective shiver ran through the assembled teams. She looked radiant, her silver hair gleaming in the morning light, her fox ears perked forward attentively. If she noticed the way every man in camp couldn’t quite meet her eyes, she gave no indication.
Victor’s hand rested possessively at the small of her back as they emerged, his red eyes sweeping over the assembled men with knowing coldness. Beside him, Voss’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk, while Damien’s expression remained unreadable, though his gaze lingered challengingly on any man who looked too long at his wife.
"We move in ten," Victor announced, his voice carrying across the camp. "Form up and prepare to depart."
As the teams scrambled to obey, Dimitri approached the group, nodding respectfully to Victor. "The men are... eager to reach Bowral," he said, a hint of dark amusement colouring his tone. "I believe they had a restless night."
The tension in the air was so thick it felt like a physical weight, a humid pressure that had nothing to do with the mountain mist and everything to do with the collective guilt of twenty men.