God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem

Kafka glanced to the side, raising an eyebrow as he noticed how closely Olivia was still pressed up against him, practically glued to his side. Even after the waitress had shown them to their booth and handed them their menus, she hadn't let go of his arm, not even a little.

He looked at her with a teasing smile and said,

"You know, Mom...I get that you don't go to restaurants much, but usually when two people come to eat together, they sit across from each other."

He tapped the table lightly for emphasis.

"Makes it easier to talk, easier to see each other's faces, you know? You sit on the same side, and now we've gotta twist our necks just to say a few words. Either we'll focus on eating or talking, but not both."

"...And let's be honest, your neck isn't built for all that twisting."

She didn't move away, instead only hugged his arm tighter, burying her cheek against his bicep as she mumbled.

"Of course I know that much, I'm not that inept, thank you very much. I've been to restaurants before."

Her voice dropped into a quiet, bashful murmur.

"But...just for now, let me stay like this. Right now, I want to hide."

Kafka blinked, puzzled. "Hide? Hide from what?"

She raised her eyes to his, her expression a little flustered, a little vulnerable.

"You're the one who pointed it out, remember? You made me aware of it. How many people are staring...It's so embarrassing to sit on the opposite side when I can feel all their eyes on me."

"It's like they're trying to burn holes through me. If I sit here, at least I can use you like a shield...to stop those stares from hitting me head on."

Kafka chuckled softly at her choice of words but didn't interrupt. She wasn't done. The M|V|LE&MPYR team worked hard on this chapter.

"I mean, I know I've always gotten those stares."

She continued, her voice soft and oddly reflective.

"My whole life, really. I've grown used to it, to an extent. I just keep this serious look on my face, walk forward, don't make eye contact with anyone, and imagine nobody's looking. That's the only way I could get by. That's how I used to handle it."

She shifted slightly and looked directly at him now, her tone changing into something more heartfelt.

"But now…" She tightened her hold on his hand, her fingers interlacing with his as she leaned in a little closer. "Now I have you, my son by my side. And I don't want to pretend like nobody's looking anymore. I want to use you instead."

"...Just for today. Just for now. I want to rely on you."

Then, almost like a timid child confessing a secret, she peered up at him with wide, pleading eyes and asked in the softest voice.

"Is that okay...Kafi? Can I do something like that?"

Kafka felt a jolt shoot through him, because dammit, that look, that voice, it was unfair. Too damn cute. It disarmed him entirely.

He smiled warmly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer until there was hardly any space between them. His hand rested protectively on her hip.

"Of course you can." He said, voice low and reassuring. "You can use me as your shield whenever you want. Every single time. That's what I'm here for. That's the whole point of having a son like me, right?"

Then he added with a playful glint in his eyes.

"If you want, you could even sit on my lap. That might help block all those stares even better."

Olivia's face immediately puffed into a pout.

"I'm asking you to protect me, not treat me like a toddler who needs to sit on your lap and be fed with a spoon." She grumbled, half embarrassed, half amused.

Kafka shrugged, feigning innocence.

"Oh? Alright then. If you're not interested in sitting on my lap, I guess I won't force you. It's just that...I thought you kinda liked it yesterday." He turned toward her with a hurt expression. "You seemed pretty content sitting there. But hey, if I misread that, no problem. I guess I'll just keep my lap to myself."

Her reaction was instant.

"W-Wait! No!" She blurted out, grabbing his shirt tightly and squeezing herself against him as if to prove her point. Her face turned a deep shade of red. "Not at all! That's not what I meant!"

She lowered her voice and shyly added.

"I...I do like sitting on your lap. It's the most comfortable place I've ever sat. Way better than any restaurant seat...or couch. I just didn't want you to think I was being clingy or childish."

Kafka smirked, visibly enjoying her flustered state as she rambled on.

"And...I wouldn't mind being fed by you either…" She mumbled under her breath, almost too quiet to hear.

He chuckled deeply, tugging her even closer.

"You're too damn cute when you get like this." He said, leaning in to whisper near her ear.

Then, with a sly whisper, he added. "And Mom, you do realize, right? Couples usually sit like this. Side by side. Especially in restaurants like this."

She blinked, surprised, lifting her gaze to his, puzzled.

"Why is that?" Olivia asked, her voice soft and curious. "If I were with someone I loved, I'd want to face them, watch them speak, not look away like this. The only reason I'm even sitting here this way is because I was forced to."

"...If I had a choice, I'd be sitting across from you, happily, thank you very much."

There was a little heat in her voice, an edge of irritation like she couldn't understand why couples would do something like that.

"Well, what you said is most definitely true...But they do have their own reason for doing such a thing."

He whispered, his arm slipping down from her shoulder, trailing lower, until, to her shock, his hand settled firmly over her breast. His fingers kneaded slowly, sensually.

"This...this is why couples sit like this." He murmured near her ear. "Because when you're tucked into a corner, like we are...when there's no one behind you to see clearly...they can have a little fun."

Her entire body stiffened, her breath hastening sharply. Her face turned beet red, every nerve lighting up, but she didn't push him away, didn't jerk back.

Not here. Not in front of so many people where people would notice if she moved so suddenly.

And maybe...just maybe...because part of her didn't want to.

"K-Kafi…" She whispered in disbelief, cheeks flushed, heart thudding in her chest.

"There's no way that's true." She hissed quietly, trying to keep her voice from cracking, even as his fingers continued to play with her from behind. "No way couples are that dirty and naughty in public places like this."

Kafka only chuckled again, shaking his head like she was being adorably naïve.

"You seriously don't know how young couples are, huh, Mon?" He said, amusement lacing his voice. "They can't keep their hands off each other. They're at the peak of their hormones. And when you've got the chance to sit this close, with just enough privacy like this."

His hand squeezed her plump breasts again, firmly, possessively, making her suck in a sharp breath.

"This is a prime opportunity."

Olivia's eyes went wide, jaw parting slightly in disbelief. "There's no way every couple who sits this way does that." She whispered, flustered beyond belief, blinking rapidly.

"Not every couple." He admitted with a grin. "Some just like sitting close. But you know what? If you look carefully at some of those side-by-side couples…"

His voice dropped again, almost purring.

"…you'll notice hands wandering under the table. Just like mine are right now."

Her eyes widened even more, and she bit her lip hard, trying desperately to keep herself composed. But his touch...it was making her tremble. Her body betrayed her, her chest rising and falling faster.

"I...I don't even want to look at other couples anymore if that's what they're doing." She muttered, flustered.

Kafka only laughed again, clearly enjoying every second.

"Don't look down on them." He said. "It's nice. Romantic, even. Like putting your claim on someone...showing the world, 'This one's mine.' And the thrill of doing it where no one sees?"

His eyes gleamed with heat. "You should try it. Right now. Touch me."

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked around quickly, paranoid, scanning for wandering eyes.

"There are so many people, Kafi. Someone will definitely see."

"No one will." He promised. "Look at the angle. No one's behind you. No one in front can see under the table. I've been doing all this, and no one's noticed, right? So be brave. Just once."

His words stirred something in her. A boldness. A yearning...This was something couples did. She wanted to be that with him.

Just for a moment. Just one brave moment.

So, trembling, she let her hand drift slowly beneath the edge of the tablecloth, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his pants.

Her pulse quickened. She hesitated, eyes darting to the left, then to the right, scanning the brightly lit room to make sure no one was looking their way. Her breath came out in a soft puff, lips parting slightly with nerves.

Her fingertips then finally reached his thigh, barely grazing it at first, testing the line between boldness and restraint.

The heat of his body soaked through the fabric, and she bit her lip, her eyes flicking up toward his face for any reaction. Still, no one had noticed. No one could see.

That secret knowledge only made her bolder.

Her touch pressed more firmly now, her fingers sliding slowly up along the firm curve of his thigh, tracing the muscles beneath with a featherlight stroke.

Her palm followed, smoothing over him in long motions as she leaned in just slightly, close enough to let her shoulder brush against his.

There was something thrilling in the quiet audacity of it, something intoxicating in the way her hand explored him under the guise of casual conversation of a morning breakfast.

"How does it feel?" He whispered.

Her gaze didn't leave his as she answered softly.

"Liberating, I think." She ran her thumb along his thighs, eyes filled with quiet resolve. "At first, I thought you were just perverted. But now that I'm doing it myself...it feels more romantic than anything. It's like I'm claiming you, saying you're mine."

He grinned, leaning into her touch. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

Then his fingers slid up to tangle in her hair, pulling her gently closer, making her blush deepen.

And in that moment, she realized, she was changing. She was no longer the timid woman she used to be. Not since her son had properly entered her life. Since she had gotten close with him, everything had changed.

She was becoming someone new, someone bolder, braver, more unashamed in her love. For better...or for worse.