Zoey's stomach clenched as she emptied herself onto Rosalie's face. Rosalie pumped diligently away, reverting to her hands from the previous use of her tits and mouth, and expertly milked out Zoey's sticky delivery.
Zoey really couldn't understate how amazing Rosalie's hands were. It didn't make sense how they were so soft, yet so powerful. Probably her upbringing, her extensive training in combat, which resulted in strength and dexterity in equal measure. And a helping of natural talent. But still, Zoey didn't know how such an ostensibly inexperienced girl—Zoey didn't know that for sure, but Rosalie's behaviors suggested it—knew with such intuitiveness which way to twist her wrists, and the perfect pace to slide her hands up and down to easily persuade Zoey's cock to empty itself.
Afterward, Zoey enjoyed the sight of Rosalie's chest and face so thoroughly covered in her warm girl spunk. Rosalie wiped her eyes clear, opened them, looked up at her, and leveled a scathing glare at Zoey's self-satisfied smirk. "You really are disgusting, I hope you know that."
Zoey would have teased back by alluding to Rosalie's whining, perverted confessions, but she didn't. Rosalie had been genuinely upset—something she'd worked past, Zoey thought, but it was best Zoey didn't dig too hard into the weakness.
Best saved for when Zoey had her fingers wriggling around inside Rosalie, anyway. Embarrassing admissions only stayed embarrassing when forced out sparingly.
They washed themselves off in the hotspring, Zoey's well of supernatural power now topped-off, then continued along their adventure.
###
"This is it," Rosalie said. "I'm almost certain."
"The boss room?"
"Just so."
It had only taken an hour more of pressing forward before they reached an ominous sign driven into the road, blackened at the edges and time-weary. 'BEWARE THE SLIME,' the decaying wood read, scrawled in black paint that hadn't dried before it started to drip, and while Zoey might not be genre-savvy, she could recognize the imminent warning of a boss encounter when she saw one.
"It's about time," Zoey said. "This ought to be interesting."
Rosalie frowned at Zoey, then hesitated, as if bracing herself for an unpleasant topic.
Zoey's stomach sank, Rosalie's next words obvious. "You don't want me to come with," Zoey preempted.
"It's for the best," Rosalie said slowly. "This won't be like the earlier fights. Bosses are smarter. They employ strategy. If they identify a weak point—"
"They'll dig into it." Zoey sighed. "You don't need to defend yourself. I get it." Zoey's time spent advancing through the shard had made the difference in their combat proficiency starkly apparent. And while it was a kick to her pride to be told joining in on the final fight would do nothing but cripple her partner, she'd much rather take a kick to the pride than end up dead. The brutal reality of the shard had been presented to Zoey, and while both she and Rosalie remained unharmed, that was on part of the second's competence, and not a lack of trying from the shard. They could be hurt. Killed, if they sufficiently misstepped. This adventure Zoey had been thrust into, while interesting, and even half-whimsical from its similarity to videogames back home, was still dangerous. It needed to be treated as the threat it represented.
So Zoey shoved down her protests and did what was better for the both of them. "Okay. Well. Good luck. And don't get hurt."
Rosalie sniffed. "This is a first advancement shard. Even without my armor, I'd be mortified to be injured, much less defeated."

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This Ascent to Divinity is Lewder than Expected (A Futa LitRPG)
FantasyLevels. Skills. Dungeons. As a nineteen year old living in modern society, these are terms Zoey is aware of. But had she ever expected to experience these videogame abstractions in the literal sense? To struggle through monster-infested realms, ea...