Beast Beauty System: The Exiled Fox is Pampered in the Beast World

Kenai stayed between her spread thighs for a long moment, chest rising and falling hard. The taste of her was still on his tongue. His cock hung heavy and flushed between them, the head already leaking against the dirt. The rut hadn’t eased. If anything, the way she’d pushed him, sucked him, challenged him, whispered that stuff about ”just curing the rot” had only wound it tighter.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked down at her. Anaria’s legs were still open, body flushed, her breathing was uneven. She didn’t try to close them.

Kenai didn’t ask nor did he warn her. He simply grabbed both her thighs, hauled her closer across the packed earth, and lined himself up. The thick head of his cock pressed against her entrance, already slick from his mouth. He pushed in with one long, relentless thrust.

Anaria’s back arched off the ground. A sharp, broken sound tore out of her throat as he stretched her open. Kenai didn’t stop halfway. He sank all the way to the base in a single heavy drive, hips slamming flush against hers. The feeling of her clenching tight around him ripped a low, guttural groan from his chest ”Gwadd...”

He stayed buried for only a second, forehead dropped to her shoulder, breathing hard against her skin. Then he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. The pace he set was brutal from the start; deep, hard strokes that forced her body to take every inch. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the small space. Dirt shifted under her back with every thrust.

Anaria’s hands scrambled for his shoulders, his arms, the ground. Kenai caught both her wrists in one large hand and pinned them above her head. His other hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise, holding her exactly where he wanted her while he went into her without restraint.

The system chimed again inside her head, soft against the raw sounds of the moment.

[Host, Husband candidate 3: Rut intensity still critical]

[Physical engagement detected. Suppression rate: 12%. Escalate intensity recommended]

Anaria’s eyes fluttered. A breathless laugh escaped her between thrusts”Still not enough for you, huh...”

Kenai’s answer was a snarl against her throat. He shifted the angle, hiking one of her legs higher against his hip so he could drive even deeper. The new position made her cry out sharp, high, almost surprised. He didn’t slow. If anything he went harder, the thick length of him dragging against every sensitive spot inside her on every stroke.

Sweat slicked both their bodies. The primitive heat of the space, the scent of sex and dirt and the sharp edge of his rut, wrapped around them. Kenai’s free hand moved from her hip to her breast, squeezing roughly, thumb dragging over the peak he’d sucked earlier. When she clenched around him in response he cursed under his breath and bit down on the side of her neck not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to mark.

Anaria’s wrists flexed in his grip. She didn’t try to pull free. Instead she lifted her hips to meet each thrust, taking him as deep as he could go. The friction was almost too much wet, tight, relentless. Every time he bottomed out she felt the heavy slap of his body against hers, the stretch, the burn that edged into pleasure so sharp it made her thighs shake.

Kenai’s rhythm grew more erratic. The careful control he’d tried to hold earlier was gone. He released her wrists only to grab both her thighs and fold them back toward her chest, opening her wider. The new angle let him pound into her even harder, the wet sounds turning louder, filthier. Anaria’s moans broke into short, punched-out gasps. Her hands found his back, nails digging in as he used her body the way the rut demanded.

He leaned down, mouth close to her ear, voice wrecked ”You wanted this, I told you not leave while you can, so don’t look at me like that now.”

Anaria’s only answer was a breathless, defiant little smile even as her body trembled under him. Kenai growled and snapped his hips harder, chasing the friction, the heat, the tight flutter of her around him. The system notification flickered again at the edge of her awareness; suppression rate climbing slowly but neither of them paid it any real attention.

He was close. She could feel it in the way his thrusts lost their last shred of rhythm, in the way his grip on her thighs tightened until it bordered on painful. Anaria clenched around him deliberately, rolling her hips to meet him, and the sound he made was almost feral.

Kenai drove into her one last deep time and stayed there, buried to the hilt, body locked tight as he came. The hot pulse of him filling her dragged a broken moan from both of them. His forehead dropped to hers, breath harsh and uneven against her mouth. For several long seconds he just stayed inside her, cock still twitching, the aftershocks of the release rolling through him.

Even then the tension in his body hadn’t fully eased. The rut was quieter, but not gone.

He pulled out slowly, watching the way his release slipped from her. A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest. Then he sat back on his heels, still breathing hard, eyes dark as they moved over her flushed, marked body.

Anaria pushed herself up on her elbows, legs still open, and met his gaze without flinching.

The system window flickered across Ananria’s vision, cold and clinical against the heat flooding her body.

[Congratulations Host, seed has been successfully planted.]

[Primary task completed, Host now carries the seed of husband candidate no 3]

Ananria’s lips parted in a shaky smile. She tried to push herself up on trembling arms, already imagining the aftermath, the quiet, the chance to catch her breath then suddenly Kenai’s hand closed around her hip and pinned her down ”Still not done with you, little fox.”