Page 4 of The Anubis’s Massage (Bathhouse Beasts #2)

"What brings you here tonight, Chris?" he asked, those glowing eyes seeming to peer straight through me. "What desire are you exploring?"

The question hung between us, heavy with implication. I could have deflected, could have made some joke about just needing to get laid after a breakup. But something about Khemet made me want to be honest.

"I don't know exactly," I admitted, my voice lower than I intended. "I just know I've been... curious. For a while now. About things I shouldn't want."

"Shouldn't?" One elegant eyebrow raised. "Says who?"

I laughed nervously. "Society? My ex? Myself, I guess."

I felt a strange calm washing over me as Khemet's hand rested on my shoulder. His touch was electric, sending tingles down my spine that pooled in my groin.

"Desire is never wrong, Chris. Suppression is what causes pain." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Have you ever had a proper massage? It might help you... relax further."

My mouth went dry. "A massage?"

"It's my specialty." His glowing eyes crinkled at the corners. "I have a private room upstairs. No expectations, just release of tension."

I found myself nodding before I'd even consciously decided. I’d never had a massage before. "Yeah. That sounds good."

Khemet rose from the water in one fluid motion, his wet fur glistening in the low light.

Rivulets ran down the contours of his muscular body, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the way his cock swung heavily between his legs.

He extended a hand to help me up, and I took it, feeling small despite my decent build.

"Follow me," he said, wrapping a towel loosely around his waist. I did the same, though my towel did little to hide my growing erection.

We climbed the stairs, passing the glory hole rooms where I'd had my earlier encounter. Khemet led me down a different hallway, one I hadn't noticed before. The lighting here was softer, more amber than red, and the air smelled of exotic incense.

He stopped at a door adorned with hieroglyphic symbols and unlocked it, gesturing for me to enter.

The room inside was nothing like the utilitarian space I'd been in earlier.

This was luxurious, with a proper massage table in the center, covered in soft linens.

Oil lamps burned in the corners, casting dancing shadows on walls decorated with Egyptian-inspired murals.

"You have your own room here?" I asked, taking it all in.

"I am... something of a fixture," Khemet replied with a small smile. "I've been coming here for many years. The management appreciates the clientele I bring to their establishment."

I bet they did. He was magnificent, unlike any creature I'd ever seen up close. Everyone must’ve wanted a massage from him. Or… more…

"Please, lie down," he said, indicating the table. "On your stomach first."

I hesitated only briefly before dropping my towel and climbing onto the table.

The linens were silky against my skin, and a face cradle allowed me to breathe comfortably while facing down.

I heard Khemet moving around, the soft clink of bottles, the strike of a match.

More incense filled the air, a heady scent that made my head swim pleasantly.

"Relax," he murmured, and then his hands were on me, slick with warm oil.

His touch was nothing like I'd ever experienced before. Those long, powerful fingers found knots in my muscles I didn't even know I had, pressing and kneading with just the right amount of pressure. I groaned involuntarily as he worked his way down my spine.

"You carry much tension," Khemet observed, his thumbs digging into a particularly tight spot between my shoulder blades. "Your body tells a story of strain and resistance."

"Occupational hazard," I managed to mumble, my face still pressed into the cradle. "I’m a mechanic.”

He made a sound that might have been a chuckle. "Not all of this tension comes from physical labor, Chris. Some of it comes from here." His finger tapped gently at the base of my skull. "From fighting yourself."

I wanted to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. The incense was making my thoughts fuzzy, pleasant. My entire body felt heavy, melting into the table as Khemet's skilled hands worked their magic. The oil he used seemed to warm my skin, creating a tingling sensation wherever he touched.

"That smells amazing," I murmured, inhaling deeply. "What is it?"

"An ancient blend," he replied, his voice closer to my ear now. "Sacred oils once used in temple rituals. It helps open the mind to new possibilities."

His hands slid lower, working the muscles of my lower back, then my glutes. I tensed momentarily as his fingers kneaded the firm flesh of my ass, but the sensation was so good I couldn't bring myself to object. No one had ever touched me there before, not like this, with such confident purpose.

"Turn over," he instructed after what could have been minutes or hours. I'd lost all track of time.

I rolled onto my back, suddenly self-conscious about my erection standing proudly against my stomach. Khemet didn't seem to notice or care, his glowing eyes fixed on my face as he poured more oil into his palms.

"The body knows what it wants," he said simply, beginning to work on my chest and shoulders. "Even when the mind refuses to listen."

The oil left a trail of warmth wherever he applied it, and I could swear I saw faint golden sparkles in it catching the lamplight. My skin felt hypersensitive, each brush of his fur-covered hands sending waves of pleasure through me.

"What's in that oil?" I asked, my voice soft and airy with pleasure.

"Nothing harmful," Khemet assured me, working his way down my arms. "Just something to help you feel... everything."

And I was feeling everything. The air against my skin, the subtle shift of the linens beneath me, the exquisite pressure of his hands as they worked their way back to my chest, brushing over my nipples. I gasped at the contact, my back arching slightly off the table.

"Sensitive," he observed, a smile in his eyes. He paused for a moment, leaning down close to my face. “May I touch your cock?” he asked softly.

My breath caught in my throat. No one had ever asked permission to touch me like that before. The combination of his formal request and the raw intimacy of the moment made my cock twitch visibly.

"Y-yes," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Khemet's eyes never left mine as his oil-slicked hand wrapped around my shaft. I gasped at the contact, my hips bucking involuntarily. His grip was perfect, firm but gentle, his palm sliding up and down with practiced ease.

"You're very responsive," he murmured, his other hand continuing to massage my chest, paying special attention to my nipples. "Has no one ever touched you like this before?"

I shook my head, unable to form words as pleasure coursed through me. The oil seemed to intensify every sensation, making my skin tingle and burn wherever his hands traveled.

"Such a waste," Khemet said, almost to himself. "A body like yours should be worshipped properly."

The incense was making my head spin, or maybe it was just the way he was touching me. Either way, I felt myself surrendering completely to the moment, to him. My eyes fluttered closed as he worked my cock with slow, deliberate strokes.

"Look at me, Chris," he commanded softly.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his glowing gaze. There was something ancient and knowing in those eyes, something that made me feel both vulnerable and safe at the same time.

"Tell me what you want," he said, his strokes slowing to an agonizing pace. "Tell me your deepest desire."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, pulled from some hidden place inside me by his hypnotic presence and those magical hands.

"I want you to fuck me," I whispered, shocking myself with my honesty. "I want to know what it feels like."

Khemet's expression didn't change, but I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Was it approval? Satisfaction?

"Are you certain?" he asked, his hand still moving languidly up and down my shaft. "Once given, such an experience cannot be taken back."

I nodded, suddenly desperate for it. "I'm sure. Please."

He released my cock and moved to the head of the table, cradling my face in his hands. The position brought his own impressive erection level with my face, and I couldn't help but stare at it. Up close, I could see the intricate gold ring that encircled the base, adorned with tiny hieroglyphs.

"First," he said, his thumb tracing my lower lip, "I will prepare you properly. No one's first time should be rushed."

With that, he moved back down the table, lifting and repositioning me so that I was on my stomach again.

His hands went back to my glutes, massaging them in the most tantalizing way.

I gasped as his oiled fingers began to circle my hole, the foreign sensation sending shockwaves through my entire body.

The oil seemed to warm and tingle against that sensitive skin, making me hyper-aware of every touch.

"Relax," Khemet murmured, his voice like velvet in the incense-heavy air. "Let your body open for me."

I tried to follow his instructions, but it was impossible to relax when every nerve ending felt like it was on fire.

His finger pressed gently against my entrance, not pushing inside yet, just teasing, preparing.

The oil made everything slick and warm, and I found myself pressing back against his touch despite my nervousness.

"Good," he praised, and the approval in his voice made my cock leak against the table. "You're a natural, Chris. Your body knows what it wants."

Slowly, carefully, he worked one finger inside me. I cried out at the intrusion, my hands gripping the edges of the massage table. It felt strange, overwhelming, but not painful. The oil seemed to ease the way, and after a moment the sensation shifted from foreign to... incredible.

"How does that feel?" he asked, his finger moving in slow, shallow strokes.