The wind sharpened on the roof. It bit through wool sweaters, rattled the bottle caps, but in the corner where Voss sat, it only stirred the edge of his patience. He crouched behind a stack of upended tables and watched. The glass wall between the sky and the room below left everything exposed. A deliberate choice, he thought, on Victor's part. Even tho he was hiding behind the door.
Her skirt hiked high on her thigh, and Victor's massive hand was already under it, stroking her with a confidence so total it bordered on arrogant. Felicity's head lolled back, tiny teeth catching her lower lip as she rocked in small, helpless motions against his hand. The scent of her, sweet and rich, floated out into the night, fouling the wind for Voss, seeding all his thoughts with want.
He watched the rhythm in Victor's arm and saw the shudders running through Felicity's slim frame. Her ears trembled; her tail flicked, wild and unselfconscious, a signal flag for anyone with animal eyes to read. She was responding open, greedy, unashamed. Victor didn't just permit her pleasure: he fed it, coaxed it, then held onto her when it nearly broke her in half.
Voss's knuckles popped as he tightened his fists against the building's ledge. He should have been angry. But what filled him instead was a thundering, predatory satisfaction. The order of things was being set. The challenge was not in contest, but in performance: could Victor push her, claim her, make her stay? And could Voss wait, bide his time, claim her just as much when the moment was right?
He watched Felicity ride the edge with Victor's hand inside her. Her head tipped back and her mouth parted in a silent wail that carried farther than sound. Her whole body tensed, then shook apart, shivering in a wave that left Victor grinning with all his dangerous teeth.
Voss felt his own hunger hardening, a knot of need that wouldn't yield. He undid his belt in the dark, slow and deliberate, and wrapped his broad hand around himself. It was a want sharpened by restraint, each stroke matched to the mounting abandon of the scene infront. He kept his eyes pinned on her, on how her legs splayed, how Victor lifted her hand to his mouth and licked her taste from his fingers, savage and territorial.
He pumped slowly, matching her rhythm, letting his own growl vibrate in his chest. He imagined the next step, her mouth opening for him, her warmth squeezing around him, imagined the frantic sounds she would make when he finally joined her and Victor together in the tangled nest of their animal desire.
She belonged to Victor for now, a fact written in the bite marks already blooming on her collarbone, the boldness of the way he fondled her in plain view. But she'd turn those blue eyes outward soon enough, and when she did, Voss would be there.
With the city's ruined skyline behind them, the three of them were the only story that mattered.
Down below, Felicity collapsed against Victor, exhausted, spent. Victor's gaze drifted and locked, for a single heartbeat, directly onto Voss. A silent exchange: yours to take, when you can. Voss bared his teeth in a smile, squeezed himself hard, spit into his palm and finished with a snarl that only the wind could hear.
The world had ended, but there was plenty left to claim. And he would have her, when the time came, on the roof or in the ashes of the old city, with Victor watching if he liked. There were no old-world rules left to obey. Just instinct, and the will to survive. And to fuck. And to finally, at long last, belong.
He buttoned himself, waited until her soft, fennec laughter drifted out, and then howled into the night. The stars above shivered in reply.