Relieve the pressure.

"This might sound humiliating... but I could always just finish you off with this heal, so that you aren't pent-up anymore."

Tracer looks to her and readjusts her goggles. She looks absolutely flushed with embarrassment.

"We're at war," Tracer whispers, looking around frantically. "Wh-What if someone comes in?!"

"We can do it quick," she whispers back. "I'll stand guard. All right? It'll be quick."

The Brit clenches her teeth and finally nods. Once more, she looks out the door, but then pushes up against the wall with both eagerness and nervousness. Between her legs, she burns for a touch--for an orgasm. But here of all places, and by Mercy? She swallows her anxiety and looks at the healing gun pointed at her chest.

Mercy pulls the trigger and pumps her full of healing power.

The laser continues to hit. She doesn't stop it.

Tracer begins to moan out loud as the arousal fills her more and more. She desperately tries to clench at something, meeting only a blank wall behind her rear. She eventually begins to touch her hands around her breasts, though can hardly do so with the metal device strapped around her chest.

Her hips buck forward and back as she slides farther down the wall. She hits the bottom, bites her lip, and her body tightens up.

The healing energy pushes her more and more, until she loses control.

Tracer bursts out into a loud orgasm--moaning and sighing with relief as she goes limp at the base of the wall, clenching herself between her legs. The throbbing sensation comes to a gentle cease.

It's embarrassing, but Angela can't help but have enjoyed that sight--that feeling.