Your cheeks are burning at this point. Thankfully, the low light makes it difficult to make out—or, well, it *would*, if you weren't dealing with a fledgeling god. You just had to hope that she didn't realize what that meant, and keep a half-step further away from the table so as to not brush against anything.
And, inevitably, your massage works its way up her stomach, trailing up her sides, leaving red impressions of your hands where you had to press a bit harder to deal with a stubborn clenched muscle. At this point, you weren't sure if Omega even *knew* how much tenseness was in her muscles before this, but you were sure she was feeling *much* better now.
And that wasn't just conjecture. You'd already noted the way her small nipples stood erect in the cool air of the massage room, and you'd have to be an idiot not to notice the tiny trail of wetness on her thigh when you were massaging her leg earlier—you'd just pretended not to notice it, for your sanity. Of course, she wasn't the only one—you were *painfully* aware of that, but you ignored it as well, for your sanity.
You curse internally as you work your way up her ribcage, practically able to feel the bones under your fingers as you move northwards. She was still far too thin, but at least whatever power animated her kept her alive, no matter how little she ate—even though it didn't give her the vitamins she required.
And then you're there. Much too early for your mind to be prepared—but then again, you doubted iyou would *ever* be ready—you reach her chest. Her eyes, thankfully, weren't on you, but on a single point on the ceiling, staring so intensely you wonder if she's planning on boring a hole into it.
"Mmph!" Almost as soon as you touch her breasts, she lets out a moan ,her thighs suddenly clenching under the towel. You bite the inside of your cheek, praying that she doesn't notice your arousal, and refocus on the massage. It felt wrong, in some way, to be as rough with her breasts as with the rest of her, but still, you had to keep up the pace.
And then a finger brushes up against one of her nipples, and the world itself shudders. You stumble, grabbing the edge of the massage table, and Omega gasps.
"My apologies," she says, lifting her head up. "I lost control for a moment." Fuck. What was *that*? Your head ached sharply. God damn it. Alright, don't surprise her, dumbass. You know better.
"It's fine," you lie through gritted teeth. "We could take a break, if you like."
"No!" That answer comes out too quickly, and you raise an eyebrow. "It would be more efficient to do this all at once." Almost instantly, her tone returns to the carefully neutral voice that she always uses. "Right?"
"I suppose." You know better than to argue with her at this point. "I'll get back to it." She nods, relaxing again as you spread more oil on your hands. You're a bit more measured now, aware of what might happen if you're not, but it's no less arousing—or intimidating—as you softly caress her chest, working out what little knots there are there.
"Ahn!" Both of you freeze as she lets out what's *obviously* an aroused moan—her cheeks flush as her eyes meet yours.
You bite your cheek harder, drawing blood, and dig your nails into your palm, trying to keep focus. It would be breaching a sacred client privilege if you said anything, right? Or was it just that you wanted to feel her mosquito bite tits some more?
"I am… notably aroused," she whispers, clearly embarrassed. "My body suffers from this affliction from time to time," she remarks matter of factly, as if commenting on the weather. "Mainly when I think of you, strangely. I have no idea why an ape like you inspires such feelings." You'd gotten used to the casual insults thrown into her speech—it's not like she means them, and they only slipped into her speech when she was nervous nowadays.
"That's normal," you tell her. "It's why I wanted to take a break, to let that dissipate." She tilts her head, her halo angling.
"Strange. From what I've observed, if a female expresses arousal to a male, mating is supposed to follow." You jump, coughing roughly.
“Normally that only happens in particular circumstances—where both parties' goal is, uh… ‘mating’,” you tell her after a moment to calm down.
“Is that not accurate to our current situation?” she asks, and dear *god* you can’t take much more of this. “Ah, right. Clarity.” She nods, clearing her throat as she sits up. “I would like to mate with you. Since it was your massage that inspired these lusts in me, it is only logical that you address them,” she tells you. “Is this agreeable to you?”
3/4 sorry, i felt it was better to cut it off here