This Ascent to Divinity is Lewder than Expected (A Futa LitRPG)

4.30 - ❤ Working It Out

Rosalie swung open their room's front door, rolling her shoulders as she walked in, working out sore muscles. Today had been a good day. She'd made progress with her newest skill, and had driven herself into the ground—her entire body ached in that comfortable, if painful, way of a training session properly seen through.

She noted Zoey's shoes set aside at the doorway, then frowned, because she hadn't called out to greet Rosalie, as she usually would've.

"Zoey? I'm back."

She tossed her room key back into her inventory, eying how Zoey had left hers out on the hallway side table. It wasn't unusual to not use your inventory for everything, since in many public spaces, doing so was banned—to prevent theft, primarily—and habits built before receiving one's class could be difficult to kick, but Zoey especially seemed to disregard her inventory to an unusual level. It was far from the oddest habit of hers, but Rosalie still noted it.

Walking into the bedroom, frown deepening at the continued lack of response, Rosalie discovered the reason why. She froze at the sight awaiting her. Not that she should have. Considering her perverted girlfriend—girlfriend? When would that word stop making her flush?—the position she found Zoey in shouldn't have made her pause. It was downright expected, even.

Laying across the bed, head propped up on a pillow, but fully dressed and on top of the covers, Zoey snoozed. That wasn't the surprising part. It was the outrageous bulge in her pants, and the way she squirmed side to side, mumbling in unmistakable noises of pleasure. Her face was red; whatever dream she was experiencing, she was having fun with it.

Rosalie's own cheeks heated at the sight, and something in her stomach clenched, heart rate picking up.

Something was odd about this, though. Taking a mid-day nap? That wasn't something Zoey usually did. And ... that paper on the night stand. A note?

Walking over, Rosalie picked up the paper and scanned it.

Ah.

Testing that dream potion she'd made. Well, it was clearly working. Specifically, in the way Zoey had expected it to. An indulgent fantasy, not a mundane one.

Rosalie huffed, flicking the paper back on the nightstand. She crossed her arms and glared at the dark-haired woman laid across their bed. How could a single person be so insatiable? If she'd asked, Rosalie could have taken care of her. And that way, her own pesky urges could've been solved. Pesky urges which were decidedly produced by Zoey. Rosalie hadn't had nearly as many problems managing her libido before Zoey had entered her life.

"Ridiculous," Rosalie said firmly.

At the lack of response, Rosalie glared harder. Then, shaking her head, she uncrossed her arms and sat on the edge of the bed.

She observed Zoey closer. Her girlfriend was really having a fun time. Her breath came fast and shallow, and her hips squirmed side to side. Slowly, and only in muted motions, being firmly asleep, but still noticeable. The sight had Rosalie's face burning.

Her girlfriend was having a wet dream. What, specifically, was she doing? Or who?

And how asleep was she? Rosalie pursed her lips. She got the feeling that potion-induced unconsciousness wouldn't be as easy to stir her from as its natural counterpart.

Rosalie poked Zoey's ankle. Seated on the end of the bed, it was the part closest to her. Zoey didn't react. She continued making breathless noises and wiggling.

Rosalie eyed the bulge. It strained against her pants, lifting them a ridiculous distance. With its size, it couldn't even stick straight up; it poked down toward her knee, bending fabric upward in a tent.