Felicity's Beast World Apocalypse

She knew that look. That was the look that meant he’d be pulling her into his lap later, burying his nose against her throat, murmuring things in that low rumble that made her thighs press together involuntarily.

Behind them, the training yard had gone suspiciously quiet. Half the men had stopped mid-drill, staring at her like she’d hung the damn moon and then set it on fire.

Voss chose that exact moment to step forward.

He moved with that quiet, rolling stride of his, unhurried and precise, closing the distance between them.

"Okay," he said, and his tone was low and easy, threaded with amusement. "I see how it is, little thing."

Her ears twitched. "How what is?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and caught the tip of her tail between two fingers, rubbing the fur there with his thumb in a slow circle that sent a jolt of sensation straight through her belly. She sucked in a breath. Her tail betrayed her instantly, going soft and pliant in his grip instead of snapping away as it should have.

Traitor.

Felicity bit her lower lip against a laugh, but Voss caught it. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and something shifted in his expression.

The amusement was still there, but layered now with a hunger he wasn’t bothering to disguise. His thumb was still stroking her tail. Each pass sent another ripple of heat through her.

"Take me to your space," he said.

He straightened, and his free hand came up to cup the side of her neck, his thumb pressing gently against the pulse point beneath her jaw. She knew he could feel how fast it was hammering. His pupils dilated, dark and focused, and the pad of his thumb dragged across her skin in a way that made her knees threaten mutiny.

"You started something." His tone dropped, rougher now, stripped of its usual analytical smoothness. "And it needs to be addressed."

Then he shifted his stance, just slightly, angling his hips toward her, and she glanced down before she could stop herself.

Oh.

The evidence of exactly what she’d started pressed against the front of his pants with zero subtlety. The fabric strained across the hard, obvious line of him, and her mouth went dry. Her fox ears snapped straight up. Her tail, still caught in his fingers, curled tight.

"Voss," she managed

"Mm." He tilted his head, watching her face with that devastating precision. "There it is. That’s the look."

"What look?"

"The one where you pretend you’re scandalised but your pupils are blown wide, and you haven’t stepped back." He released her tail and slid his hand to the small of her back instead, pulling her forward until the heat of his body pressed flush against hers. She felt him, thick and rigid against her stomach, and her breath stuttered out in a sound she absolutely did not authorise.

Her entire body flushed.

Lucan had gone perfectly still beside Victor, his attention narrowed to a razor point on where Voss’s hand rested against her back. A muscle flexed in his jaw. His nostrils flared. He looked like a predator waiting for his turn at the kill, patient and coiled and absolutely certain his turn was coming.

Victor opened the fels space and nodded his head towards Voss.

"See?" Voss murmured against her temple, and his lips brushed her skin, feather-light and devastating. "Even the boss agrees you’ve caused a structural problem that requires immediate attention."

"Critical infrastructure failure." His hand slid lower on her back, fingertips dipping just beneath the waistband of her skirt.

Felicity pressed her face into Voss’s chest and laughed, and the vibration of it seemed to ripple through him. His grip tightened. His chest expanded with a deep, controlled breath, and when she looked up, the calculation in his gaze had burned away to something raw and wanting.

"Fel." Just her name. Just the single syllable, spoken low and rough and stripped bare.

Her fingers tightened in his shirt. Her tail wound around his wrist.

"Take me in, then," she whispered. "Before you give the entire training yard a hard on."

His grin was sharp and victorious and just a little bit unhinged. He lifted her one arm under her knees, the other around her back, effortlessly, and turned toward the shimmering portal.

Behind them, Ivan pushed off the fence and followed, rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for something far more interesting than combat drills.

Damien peeled away from his position with that liquid, predatory grace, already unbuckling a strap at his wrist. Victor stepped aside to let them pass, and as Felicity caught his gaze over Voss’s shoulder, she saw the edge of a smirk on his mouth and a blaze in his expression that made her stomach drop straight through the floor.

Voss didn’t wait. He shoved her against the door as it slammed shut, his mouth crashing onto hers in a bruising kiss, tongue invading with dominant force. She moaned into him, fingers tangling in his mane, her nails scraping his scalp as she submitted to the raw power play. "You little tease," he snarled against her lips, grinding his hips forward so she felt every inch of his throbbing length press against her belly.

"You," he snarled against her lips, breath ragged.

"I was sitting there." Her fingers twisted tighter in his hair. "Literally just sitting there."

"Exactly." He bit her lower lip, tugged, released it with a wet sound that made her thighs clench. "sitting there looking like that."

"That’s your problem."

"No, that’s a you problem," he corrected, rolling his hips again, slow and grinding and devastatingly precise, "that I’m about to make your problem."

Voss growled into Felicity’s ear, his breath hot against her neck. He ground his hips against hers again, and she gasped softly at the sensation. "Taking advantage of my discipline like this." His hand slipped down to grab her ass cheek possessively, squeezing it lightly before letting go to trace up her thigh.