Lewd Ascent - A Futa LitRPG Ch. 066-075

"I already told you why I'm wearing them."

"You're not that much shorter than me." Zoey paused. Well, that was a lie. "You're just ... fun sized," she amended.

Rosalie glared at her.

Zoey laughed. She really wasn't that short—only a bit shorter than the average girl. Zoey was just tall. Had been, even before Ephy's transformation, which had added another few inches. At least, from what she could tell. She hadn't exactly busted out the measuring tape.

"I'm the shortest in my family," Rosalie muttered. "You're not allowed to tease me over it. I get enough of it from my sisters."

Zoey nodded solemnly. "Don't worry. You'll have me for the top shelf, now. You won't need to ask them anymore."

Another glare, which Zoey smirked back at—and which made Rosalie blush.

Reaching their destination—a large oak tree with a sprawling shadow—Zoey set out the checkered blanket and laid down the picnic basket.

"Hope you're hungry," Zoey said, sitting and stretching her arms wide, working out her muscles. They were aching from ... well, all the chaos of the past few days. "But save space for dessert. You like ice cream?"

As it turned out, this world did have that, though it wasn't as popular as back home. Still, Maddy helped her track down a tiny restaurant near the park, which they'd be heading to after the picnic and finger-painting debacle.

"I've had it," Rosalie said. "Not often. I usually watch my diet, strictly. But it's," she paused. "Fine." She shrugged.

Zoey nodded in passive realization. Obviously, as part of her training growing up, Rosalie had kept an intense regiment, including food. That lean, fighting figure of hers hadn't come about by accident. Or through a magical transformation, like Zoey's had.

"Well. Today's for cutting loose. We'll make up for it tomorrow."

Which brought up something Zoey hadn't considered. While Zoey hadn't been in horrible shape back home, Ephy's transformation had left her much better off. Did it need to be maintained? Or was it an ongoing blessing—could she pig out and keep her figure? That'd be pretty awesome, but it was hard to test in any reasonable time frame. Unless she really indulged.

Rosalie hummed at Zoey's response, continuing to humor her. She wasn't not having fun, Zoey thought, but dates in general weren't really 'Rosalie', much less 'day-at-the-park and cute picnic' dates. Though, Rosalie had been the one to ask, so Zoey wasn't discouraged.

Or, kind of, she'd been the one to ask. Technically, Zoey had ... but Rosalie had bludgeoned her over the head to get her to do so. Her lips quirked at the memory—at Rosalie being upset Delta had 'gotten the first date'.

"You ever been on a picnic?" Zoey asked. "Or is this your first?"

Rosalie paused as she considered the question. "Well," she said. "Do outdoor banquets count? Of a political sort?"

"Did you sit on a blanket?"

"Certainly not."

"In chairs?"

"That is the other option."

"Well, I meant a picnic bench."

Rosalie paused. "No. A regular table."

"Then I'd say that doesn't count."

"Is that what makes a picnic? A bench or a blanket?"

"I mean, kind of?" Not really, since a picnic was really just an outdoor meal ... so Rosalie was probably right. "Or, I guess not. But yeah, pretty much."

"At least you're consistent."

Zoey laughed and finished unpacking the food she'd brought. It wasn't much: a freshly baked loaf of bread with accompanying butter and jam, cheese, crackers, and fruit. Light foods, but plenty to snack on.

"And finally ..." Zoey said, withdrawing the last item and presenting it. "Ta-da. I hope you're not a wine snob, because one, I don't know anything about wine, especially with amnesia, and two, I'm poor, so it's cheap." She grinned, waggling it. "But I thought it fit the intended ambiance."

This world's alcohol policies were looser than the ones back home, which was fortunate. She'd already guessed that from Delta's casual invitation to go have drinks ... and she could've guessed it even without that. Anyone down in the Fractures—a place swarming with monsters—ought to be able to buy alcohol, seeing how they were risking their lives on a daily basis. It'd have been ridiculous if not.

"Wine snob?" Rosalie echoed.

Zoey guessed Rosalie had probably never heard the phrase, common as it might be back home. Probably not a phrase thrown around by social aristocrats ... or whatever stuffy circles Rosalie had grown up in.

"A sophisticated palate," Zoey amended. "Or, that's how the wine snobs put it."

Amused, Rosalie took the bottle and inspected the label. "Well," she said eventually. "I've never heard of the brand. That's not necessarily a condemnation ... I suppose you might have eclectic tastes. For my sensibility's sake, I'll pretend it's that."

"So you are a snob."

"Mm. My family was—is—exempted from many frivolities of court, but not entirely. We do need to keep up appearances."

Despite that Zoey had put two and two together, hearing Rosalie so casually mention things like 'court' and needing to 'keep up an image' had Zoey off foot ... and honestly, had some insecurity creeping in. She was dating this girl? Her? Zoey? How in the world had that happened?

Rosalie offered the bottle back, and Zoey put it aside.

"What was that like, anyway? Growing up in ... court?"

"A sidenote," Rosalie answered, leaning back and looking away from Zoey, out into the park. "Irrelevant, compared to my training routine. Father had demanding expectations. We learned how to present ourselves in a befitting manner, but as I told you, we were exempt from much of their ... games. Training took much greater focus. The court was more of an unfortunate chore."

"We, being you and your sisters?"

Rosalie nodded.

She had adopted a contemplative look, which wasn't Zoey's goal for today. They'd strayed into territory that could have the mood ... maybe not souring, but turning away from what she wanted. This was supposed to be a cute, easygoing date. The point was to have Rosalie relaxing. And Zoey wanted to learn more about Rosalie, but not at the expense of making things heavier than they needed to be.

"Who helped you plan this?" Rosalie asked suddenly.

"What, I couldn't myself?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "No, you just seem the type to ask for help. To make it a social event. So, Delta?"

Rosalie had a good read on her. That probably shouldn't make Zoey's stomach gooey, but it did.

"Maddy, actually."

"You two made quick friends."

"Nah, that's just who she is. She'd help a stranger plan a date. Happily, honestly. She's a sucker for romance. Apparently she plans all her sisters' dates, too."

Rosalie thought about that for a second, then grimaced. "I couldn't even imagine 'talking romance' with my sisters."

"You three aren't close?"

Rosalie chewed over her response. At least she didn't seem put off by the heavier-than-intended question. "It's complicated. But even when we're on good footing, we don't ... talk about things like that." She shrugged. "You're a very open person, Zoey. My family isn't. Even Elodie, who's the most of all of us."

"That's fair."

Zoey passed off the slice of bread she'd been preparing. Rosalie took it and bit in, savoring the butter and jam. Next, Zoey poured two glasses of wine, then handed one to Rosalie.

Hilariously, Rosalie took the glass and held it up to the light, tilting her head side to side as she inspected it. She held the glass by the stem with pointer finger and thumb, then, visual appraisal finished, swirled the liquid and closed her eyes, smelling it. Finally, she took a sip.

"I think it's a hoax," Zoey said. "I bet if I gave you a blind taste test, you couldn't tell cheap wine from expensive." She was pretty sure she'd seen a video proving that ... but explaining the concept of 'videos' to Rosalie was obviously not on the table.

Rosalie blinked at Zoey's words. She probably hadn't even realized the ordeal she'd gone through before taking her first sip. She'd simply been going through the motions. Rosalie hummed. "Well, there is a difference. I suppose it's possible I couldn't, but some people I know could."

Zoey wasn't sold. Though, maybe the gap between 'cheap' and 'expensive' wine hadn't been closed in this world. Maybe that had happened from modern production standards. Or ... who knew.

Zoey took her own sip. She didn't go about the whole process like Rosalie had, instead pointedly going straight for the drink, holding eye contact with Rosalie, which Rosalie rolled her eyes at—but her lips quirked, which meant Zoey had succeeded in amusing her.

She let the rich taste linger on her tongue for a moment, pretending to consider its complexity.

"Ah, yes," Zoey said. "It tastes like wine."

"I already believe that you're unsophisticated. No need to play it up."

A smile played on her lips, and Zoey grinned back. The two of them continued their meal.

3.27 The Date V

"This is ridiculous," Rosalie huffed.

Zoey considered Rosalie's canvas. A lurid display of blues, greens, and spots of reds and oranges—the flowers scattering the park—splayed out on the white sheet, brought to life by Rosalie's fingers. Zoey made a show of inspecting the piece, turning head side to side and humming in deep consideration, like a critic appraising a fine painting for merit, deciding whether it deserved to be hung at a gallery.

"Well," Zoey said, nodding firmly. "I think a toddler might have done better. It's abysmal."

Rosalie glared at her, but she didn't defend herself. Even prickly and competitive as she was, she couldn't deny the catastrophe she'd created. She did, however, settle for returning the insult. "And yours is much better? Is that supposed to be a cloud?"

Zoey looked at her own portrait, pursing her lips. It was a horrendous painting, even accounting for how she'd drawn it with finger paint, and her total lack of artistic background. But worse than Rosalie's? Well ... she wasn't sure. It was a stiff competition.

"We'll call it a draw."

Rosalie huffed, again—the hundredth time of the past twenty minutes. She'd been making the noise constantly while painting. They'd been keeping their respective canvases hidden, but hearing Rosalie's frequent noises of displeasure, Zoey had known what to expect. Or, partially. Because could anyone be prepared for that?

"We might not have made art," Zoey said sagely. "But we accomplished something much more important, and that's all that matters."

"And that is?" Rosalie asked. She eyed Zoey. She knew something was coming.

"The impossible. We found a way to make you pout." She tapped Rosalie's nose, leaving a smudge of green. "You don't like being bad at things. It's cute."

Rosalie wrinkled her nose, going cross-eyed as she glared down at the mark Zoey had left, then turning it back toward her. How she had managed a cross-eyed glare ... well, her pouting blonde teammate was capable of all kinds of incredible feats.

Just not artistic ones.

Rosalie glanced away, blushing. Zoey realized she'd been grinning a bit too dopily her way, and for too long. Zoey also cleared her throat and looked away.

"You're sure it'll wash out?" Rosalie asked. She picked at her apron—Zoey had provided them to protect their outfits—and craned around to assess the damage. "It helped, but I still got some on me."

"That's what they told us. Washes out. Should be fine." It was a nice dress Rosalie was wearing. It'd be a shame if the stray paint had stained it.

Zoey took one more glance at Rosalie's painting, laughed—which earned another glare—then collapsed backwards into the picnic blanket, stretching her arms wide. She closed her eyes. Her muscles really were so sore. Things had been nonstop go, go, go ever since she'd been thrown between worlds.

A moment later, she opened her eyes. The sky was turning dark, proper evening approaching. In her peripheral, she caught sight of the enormous tree trunk towering into the sky. It'd been out of her vision for a bit, and she'd almost forgotten she was in a flying park, thousands of feet in the air. Seriously, so weird.

"So," Zoey said, turning to look at Rosalie, who quickly glanced away, looking guilty. That made Zoey pause, then grin. She ignored the telling reaction ... that Rosalie must have been studying Zoey while she was sprawled out. "I was thinking ice cream, like I said. You saved space?"

"I could go for dessert."

"Perfect." Zoey stretched one more time, then rolled to a sitting position. "Let's get cleaned up, then head there."

***

"Plain vanilla?" Zoey asked, aghast. "You never cheat on your diet, and you get plain vanilla when you do?"

"What?" Rosalie asked defensively. "It tastes good."

"So do the other flavors. And ... you didn't even get toppings!"

"Toppings distract. Less is more. I wouldn't expect you to get that."

Zoey paused, then a mischievous smile slid across her face. The set-up had been way too perfect. "Yeah, I wouldn't. I'm more of a 'more is more' girl. I thought you liked that about me." She wiggled her eyebrows.

It took Rosalie a second to understand the innuendo. Her eyes dipped down, then back up, and she looked at Zoey like she was something unpleasant she'd stepped in—before shaking her head and settling into the small, elevated round table by the window. Using a spoon, she scooped out a bite of her ice cream and ate it.

Zoey sat across from her and likewise took a bite. She, unlike her date for the night, had made the trip to the ice cream parlor worth her time. She had laden her three scoops of varying flavors high with toppings and sugar-drizzles of various sorts—caramel, syrups, whatever they had on hand. Zoey wouldn't say she had a sweet tooth, per se, but when the opportunity arrived, she went for it. Anything worth indulging in, in her opinion, was worth over-indulging in.

They ate for a few moments, before Rosalie said, a bit suddenly, "I had fun." She met Zoey's eyes, then cleared her throat and looked away. "This was ... nice. I enjoyed myself." She hesitated before continuing. "But ... I'm not sure how often I could do something like this. Dates. I hope that doesn't bother you."

Zoey blinked, surprised at the abrupt nervousness on Rosalie's face.

"Of course it doesn't bother me," Zoey said. "Or ... it does. Kind of." Rosalie glanced up, concerned, but Zoey finished the thought: "But not because I need to constantly be going on dates with you, but because I want you to take care of yourself. You deserve time off. In general, not just with me. I guess it's not my place to say so, but I'm worried you work too hard."

Rosalie went silent. She stared down at her ice cream, picking at it but not eating. Zoey worried that she'd said the wrong thing. She had expected Rosalie wouldn't want people telling her how to manage her time, and so Zoey had tried to soften the statement. But maybe she shouldn't have brought it up at all.

"Isn't it, though?" Rosalie finally asked.

"Sorry?"

"Your place. To tell me stuff like that. To worry." She stared down at her ice cream and poked at it with her spoon. "That's what ... girlfriends do, right?"

Zoey sat there, stunned.

That had come out of no where. Zoey had thought for sure that she would be the one needing to bring up the 'g-word', not Rosalie.

Rosalie looked up, worried. Zoey realized she'd sat there, eyes wide, for a little too long. Seeing Rosalie's concerned expression, Zoey shook herself out of it.

A smile grew on her face, stupidly fast. That reassured Rosalie, but had her eyes shooting back down to her ice cream, pointedly away from Zoey—a searing blush replacing the worry.

"So that's what we are?" Zoey asked. Even she could hear the grin in her voice.

"Well," Rosalie mumbled. "Are we?"

"I dunno. A title like that ... we haven't even kissed yet."

Rosalie's eyes flicked up, meeting Zoey's. Seeing Zoey's grin—now teasing, not just dopey—she lifted her chin and sniffed. Challengingly, she said, "Then maybe we should fix that."

Zoey's heart started slamming in her chest. Permission. To kiss Rosalie. She'd been waiting for that for—she didn't know how long. And she'd just been given it.

So ... what. Now Zoey was supposed to kiss her?

How was she supposed to just do that?

They stared at each other for a second, with Rosalie's bravado—and some of Zoey's own confidence—fading for nervousness, blushes replacing them.

Fortunately, Zoey's body acted for her, working up her unconscious nerve even if she couldn't do so consciously. The table they were sitting at was tiny, so she barely had to lean out of her seat.

Rosalie responded instinctively. She also leaned forward, closing her eyes. Zoey's pounding heart reached a crescendo that genuinely concerned her. A flood of excitement—and intimidation—washed through her.

She kissed Rosalie.

It was barely anything. Chaste, so much less than anything they'd done before—but also so much more. She held the kiss for a few moments, savoring in Rosalie's soft lips, before she pulled back. It felt appropriate to keep it short. Like something hot and heavy would've meant less, somehow, considering their relationship so far.

Short as it was, it set Zoey on fire. That she'd finally been allowed to do it—to kiss Rosalie. Rosalie. It stunned her.

"Well. There we go," Zoey said, face burning. "It's official. Girlfriends."

"Girlfriends," Rosalie echoed. Her own face was betraying her, as much as Zoey's was. That only made Zoey's stomach start doing flips in even newer and more creative ways.

The blushing awkwardness faded after a few minutes. They fell back into their casual conversations, though the thrill didn't fade. Zoey could barely keep still, fidgeting for the entire rest of dessert. She caught herself grinning and had to wipe it away several times. Rosalie had to fight the tugging at her own lips, too, which just fed into Zoey's reactions.

They finished their ice cream and left. The first half of the trip back to the guild was normal enough—though Zoey was giddy the entire time, barely managing to not act an idiot. Or, too big of one.

The second half, though, a realization fell over the two of them. It didn't take any explicit conversation. Their casual chit-chat fell away and they started to walk faster. To breathe faster in anticipation. The date had gone well—amazingly, even—and now they were headed back to their room.

They both knew what that meant.

Their kiss had been chaste ... but their full celebration. That, both of them knew, wouldn't be.

3.28 ❤ Post Date I

The trip back to their room was frantic.

Zoey barely lasted a second through the entry before she had Rosalie pinned against the wall. She kicked the door shut with her foot, her mouth on Rosalie's before it finished slamming closed.

The kiss was nothing like their chaste, heart-fluttering one back at the parlor. It was hungry and needy. She pried Rosalie's mouth open and explored, drinking her taste. There had always been something holding Zoey back from doing this, from taking Rosalie's lips directly, but the dam had been broken. She could enjoy Rosalie in full.

Still kissing, Zoey lifted Rosalie up and put her on the entry hall's table, clattering something to the ground in the process, which she paid no attention to. Their mouths didn't break during the adjustment. Zoey hiked Rosalie's dress up and ran her hands up and down her legs, reveling in how smooth and warm they were under her fingers. Rosalie's own hands buried into Zoey's hair, pulling her head in closer, giving better purchase for their tongues as they tasted each other.