Lewd Ascent - A Futa LitRPG Ch. 076-085

And paired in a different way. Girlfriends.

What a disaster. Dating. Rosalie wasn't supposed to be dating anyone. Ever, probably, but certainly not until she'd carved an appropriate name for herself. She didn't have time for that kind of frivolity.

"I'll start, then?" Delta asked. She'd raised an eyebrow, as if noticing Rosalie's wandering thoughts.

Shaking them away, and fighting off a flush—distracted already?—Rosalie replied, "Whenever you wish."

Delta didn't linger. She seized the opportunity, bursting into motion. The first three arrows had zipped her way before Rosalie had spurred herself to move. A skill, undoubtedly. Delta was quick with her movements, and admittedly even faster than Rosalie, but not as lighting-quick as the initial barrage of arrows would imply.

Weaving between them, Rosalie closed the gap in a blink. Delta pulled out her daggers, frowning that none of her initial attacks had found purchase. It'd probably been her best shot, especially since she'd relied on a skill.

The fight began in earnest.

She would give her teammate credit. A close-range duel like this wasn't her specialty, her two daggers far inferior to Rosalie's spear, and yet she put up a good fight. Most sparring partners, Rosalie would have dismantled in a few exchanges. Instead, Delta weaved between between spear thrusts and even managed to have her on the back foot for a few moments, Rosalie barely avoiding the quick, vicious slashes of her twin daggers.

But, ultimately, the first round wasn't close, either. Delta wasn't an irrelevant opponent, but she wasn't a highguild heiress apprenticed under one of the world's strongest wayfarers. She hadn't lived and breathed combat training for every waking moment of her existence.

A series of precise footwork and thrusts later, Rosalie's spear scraped along Delta's shoulder, drawing blood as it pierced her armor. Delta grunted and pulled back.

Delta eyed Rosalie, a bit sourly. She did have a competitive streak, which Rosalie respected. However much Delta had set this debacle up with intent to tease Rosalie, she had also been trying her hardest to win.

It was one of their few points of kinship. Here was a girl who cared about winning, desperately. Overall, Rosalie found Delta a bit unfocused, but Rosalie had sorted through the many candidates of the Treyhull guild and landed on Delta, despite annoying first impressions. That had been for a reason.

Attending to her minor injury, Delta pulled out a health potion and took a drink. The scrape on her shoulder stitched itself over, returning her to her previous condition. Likewise, her armor repaired itself, mending the slash Rosalie's spear had cut open. An awfully convenient feature of equipment found in shards. Beyond being more durable and providing empowering effects, they were tied to a person's life force. Most damage could be healed, either over time or with a health potion, in the same manner injuries would.

"Almost had you," Delta said. "But whatever." She sniffed, ego bruised. "What do you want first?"

Hm?

Rosalie paused, remembering the nature of this spar. Right. Each of Rosalie's victories meant her opponent would be losing a piece of her equipment. Stripping, slowly, toward nudity.

Which should mean it would be easier to win. A lack of armor in a normal spar ought to be a detriment.

Would be a detriment. To Delta. Not her. She wouldn't get distracted.

Because, first off, what was there to be distracted by?

"Your gloves," Rosalie said.

"Nice try, princess. Not one of the options."

"And the options are?"

"Top, bottom, and for each of those, outer, inner. So four pieces total."

Traitorously, Rosalie's heart sped up, considering the choice. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Either. It hardly matters."

"You've gotta pick, princess."

"Bottom."

Delta snorted, as if she'd expected the response. "Yeah. Of course you would. You're scared of these." She cupped her breasts behind her leather armor, sneering at Rosalie. Done under restrictive armor, the bouncing motion wasn't especially flattering ... but Rosalie, unfortunately, glanced away, blushing.

And, the accusation. Staring? Her? "I have most certainly not." Rosalie could, maybe, perhaps admit that from a strictly factual stand point, Delta had a lot going on up top. A lot more than Rosalie, certainly. There was plenty to stare at. But was Rosalie doing so? No. Clearly, Delta had an ego problem along with her obnoxiousness one.

The amusement in Delta's curled lips said everything it needed to. How she could dismantle Rosalie's protests with a simple look, she had no idea. Maybe Rosalie was dismantling her own protests by the way she blushed furiously. Either way, she rallied herself, then met Delta's eyes, glaring. She wouldn't be cowed, however mortifying this sparring session was—and would shortly become.

Unfortunately, Delta seemed to bask in Rosalie's heated look, flourishing underneath the glare.

Delta's boots came off, then her pants. She held eye contact with Rosalie as she did so, making it an event. Once done, the boots didn't go back on. They came as a pair, apparently—the accessories came with the major articles.

Once done, Delta plucked her daggers off the bench she'd set them on, then padded back to the opposite end of the room.

Rosalie tried hard not to stare. Delta's long, toned legs were on full display, and not the easiest thing to ignore. She'd also worn a pair of bright orange underwear. Matching her hair. Something as attention-grabbing as possible, and undoubtedly intentional.

Fortunately, it wasn't working. Not in the slightest.

"Ready?" Rosalie asked.

Delta only smirked. Why did she have to be so confident about all this? And even pleased? Like she wanted Rosalie to admire her? Not that she was.

"Mm," Delta said. "Nah, gimme a second. I'm actually kind of tense. Lemme stretch out."

Delta turned around, then bent forward, keeping her legs straight. She pretended to go about a stretching routine, but all she was doing—blatantly so—was showing herself off for Rosalie: her recently exposed legs and ass, which her panties did an excellent job of cupping.

From an objective standpoint. Not Rosalie's own opinion.

Delta peeked down from beneath her legs, fists on the floor as she stretched out her hamstrings. Violet eyes met her own, and a fluffy orange tail swished in amusement. "Don't enjoy the show too much, blondie. It's rude to stare."

Rosalie tore her eyes away. "I wasn't," she said immediately. Then, correcting the instinctive lie, because it would be torn in two, she sneered, "It wouldn't be beneath you to use this as a distraction. I was making sure you didn't start."

"So why look away, then, when I called you out?"

Rosalie's lips pressed into a line. She ... had her there.

Finally, Delta straightened out and rolled her shoulders. That irritating smirk was still there, and even more pronounced than before. Rosalie had won the first actual spar, but Delta had done so—and in much more spectacular fashion—the first spar of less literal interpretation.

"Alright. Ready for round two?"

"As ever," Rosalie replied stiffly. The annoying fox-girl could try as hard as she wanted to fluster her, but she wouldn't let it carry over into combat. She had better training than that.

Despite that determination, round two was sloppier. Not for any particular reason. She just made a few minor errors. Not because she was distracted by Delta's exposed legs and bright orange panties. Just ... a coincidence.

Fortunately, the irritated look on Delta's face, having lost twice in a row, made up for the ordeal Rosalie was suffering.

"How do you do that?" Delta asked, tail swishing in annoyance, holding her arm where Rosalie's had scored her next hit. "It's like you can read my mind. You don't fall for anything." She narrowed her eyes. "And what's that you're doing with your spear? New skill?"

Rosalie inclined her head in acknowledgment. She didn't generally think it wise to share skill details, and to most other people would have simply stayed silent, even if the skill was obvious. But Delta was looking to be a long-term teammate of hers, so she didn't outright snub her. Still, no details.

Delta huffed. "Okay. What's next off?"

"There's only one option, isn't there?" She tried to not focus on what they were talking about. Keeping her blushes under control was hard enough.

"Nah," Delta said. "Two. You could take my panties next, if you wanted. Doesn't have to be my top."

She ... could?

"Your top is fine," Rosalie said firmly.

"You sure? Don't wanna get to the fun stuff?"

"Positive."

Delta grinned, then got to stripping. Before Rosalie knew it, Delta was lined up across from her, now in only her underwear. It had already been a gargantuan task to ignore the glimpses of smooth skin and flashes of underwear, especially because a good warrior needed to watch her opponent's hips, being the fulcrum which most powerful moves pivoted on and the easiest place to identify intent, but now Delta's .... assets ... were on full display. The ones Rosalie had been—quite falsely—accused of staring at.

How was it fair? That she'd gotten those things? Rosalie didn't have nothing up top, and likely more than she could hope for considering her lean build, but compared to this annoying fox-girl, it wasn't even close. If Rosalie had been staring, it was because she was annoyed. Outraged at the unfairness of it all.

Rosalie tore her attention away, forcing it back to Delta's eyes. Delta's annoyance from losing had faded. Getting to see Rosalie squirm made up for the bruising to her pride.

"Have another stretching routine?" Rosalie asked. "Or shall we begin?" It came out stiffer than intended.

"Only the first show is free. But ... maybe if you ask nicely."

So she hadn't been stretching. Not that Rosalie had believed that. But still. So shameless. Rosalie glared, then lowered her spear, making her intent clear. Time for round three.

Just three more quick victories, for Delta's bra, panties, then the naked round, and Rosalie would be done with this. It would be over shortly. She wouldn't let herself get distracted.

And the hand-to-hand final round ... where she had to pin a naked Delta down and make her tap out ... that wouldn't be a problem, either.

Not a problem at all.

4.06 - Strip Spars II

Rosalie managed to win round three as well, but it was by an even closer margin than the first two. Hair-thin. Then, left with the unfortunate choice of having Delta strip her bra or panties off, she picked the less distracting of the two: her bra.

Round four went to Delta.

Not because Rosalie was distracted. Rather, Rosalie would have to concede that Delta must be a better fighter than first appraised. Which was a hard admittance to make. But the alternative was to acknowledge she was becoming distracted. And she wasn't.

Maybe even it was luck. Rosalie couldn't always win. It wasn't that her eyes were sticking to inappropriate places, making her miss obvious tells to what Delta's next move would be.

As her first bounty for a win, Delta chose Rosalie's top. Exposing herself, even in a small way, to her aggravatingly confident teammate had almost as much of an effect as Delta's own stripping. Rosalie's performance for round five was even worse than round four, and Delta won again. So, Rosalie's pants came off, leaving Rosalie in panties and bra, and Delta in just panties.

The worst part was the amusement in Delta's sparkling purple eyes. The constant smirk, the quips and taunting remarks. Most of them focused on Rosalie's blushing, not that she was blushing. Delta just interpreted it like that. The reality was that she had worked up a sweat. This was a spar. Of course her face and chest were flushed. Never mind that Rosalie's stamina was far greater than to be getting flushed in a few quick exchanges. This was ... an exception. Somehow.

Her irritation at Delta's teasing actually provided enough fire for Rosalie to focus for another round. She won match six, and Delta's panties came off, leaving her naked.

The brief rallying effect dissipated.

For two reasons: one, that Delta was naked, and sure, it wasn't the first time she'd seen that, considering their adventures in the second shard, but this situation was different. They didn't need to be naked. The shard hadn't forced it.

Secondly, Rosalie lost her weapon. The final rounds, as laid out by Delta's rules, required the winner to pin down their naked opponent. It had sounded like a distinctly made up addition, but Rosalie couldn't call her on it. Obviously, she'd never done something like this before. An expert on the rules of 'strip spars'.

So, round seven. Where Rosalie needed to grapple a naked Delta, who still had her daggers. It was too challenging of a task. She lost two additional rounds, being stripped of her own bras and panties. The defeats were only the result of the weapon disadvantage. Grappling an armed opponent without taking hits was too difficult, even for her. It wasn't that getting her hands on a sweaty, naked Delta caused problems for her focus. Not in the slightest.

Which mortifyingly led them to this moment.

"Remember, princess," Delta said, tail swishing behind her. Rosalie tried hard to maintain eye contact. Though that wasn't even what she was supposed to do; she should be watching her hips. They telegraphed movement most obviously. But ... it might actually be worse for Rosalie to look there. Too much to see. "Your girlfriend doesn't want us to do anything without her," Delta said, almost startling Rosalie, who'd, again, zoned out. "So keep control of yourself."

"Keep control of myself?"

"Nothing too fun," Delta confirmed, as if it had been a real question, and not a growled protest. "But it's winner gets, so play hard."

Nothing too fun. As if she was implying this final wrestling match could get out of hand. Maybe—maybe—Rosalie could admit Delta had a body that was mildly—mildly—distracting, but that didn't mean Rosalie was remotely interested in Delta. That she'd get 'carried away' during this wrestling.

Really, the only possible way Rosalie would consider something like what Delta implied—intimacy—was if Zoey asked. Because she herself wasn't interested. Not remotely. Not even slightly. She couldn't imagine something less appealing than sleeping with this monumentally irritating woman.

But if Zoey asked, maybe Rosalie could be convinced.

Because then Rosalie could make it clear she was just entertaining Zoey's wishes. Keeping her perverted girlfriend satisfied.

She wouldn't have to admit anything.

"No reply?" Delta asked.

Rosalie started, again.

"Lost in thought?" Delta teased. "Distracted by something?" She raised her hands in the air and stretched, thrusting her chest out. Rosalie glanced away, instinctively, and Delta tutted. "I'm just stretching, princess. You don't need to look away." A grin. "Plus, I could've taken advantage of that, like you mentioned earlier. You're lucky I'm not trying my hardest."

Infuriated, Rosalie looked back forward. She was right. That could have been an easy advantage. Why had she looked away? Delta's body wasn't flustering her. "Can we begin, already?"

She raised her eyebrows. "If you want your hands over me that badly, I guess we can get going."

Instead of entertaining the banter for a second longer, she stepped forward. "I'm starting."

Delta settled into a fighting stance. "Hand to hand isn't my strength, but not yours either, I'm taking it."

"I've trained in all styles." It might not be her forte, but she was more than capable.

"Of course you have," Delta said. "Still. I'm bringing this one home. Ready?"

Rosalie began the fight, surging forward. The distance closed in an instant. Delta twisted out of the way, dodging her first attempt at a grapple. Despite Rosalie being the shorter, more agile-looking of the two, Delta was actually quicker than her, and by a noticeable amount. Her runes. As a bow-and-knife wielding damage-focused wayfarer, Rosalie would be hard pressed to find an opponent as slippery as her. Rosalie's own specialties were with offense mixed with defense.

She steadied herself, but Delta's dodge had put her in a great position to follow up. Her hands wrapped around Rosalie's stomach, and—apparently more than happy to take this to the floor—yanked her up, then heaved and purposely fell, dropping the two of them. Rosalie hit hard enough to be stunned. Delta's teasing, apparently, had extended only to the pre-match. She wanted to win, and was fighting like it.

She wanted a 'favor' from Rosalie.

The two of them struggled against each other, Rosalie wiggling out of her grip and trying to secure her own hold. Naked, sweaty skin rubbed against naked, sweaty skin. Only the adrenaline of the fight kept Rosalie half-way focused.

An intense, heated exchange took place. Wrestling was very much not Rosalie's strength, but, as Delta had said, not hers, either. By the standards of the previous matches, it was sloppy.

Still, Rosalie eventually found an opening. Her muscles strained as she secured a grip on her opponent, maneuvering into a pin. She'd wrapped Delta with her legs, and locked her arms with her own. Despite the poor beginning, she'd come out on top.

Delta thrashed, putting up a good fight to break free, but Rosalie held firm. If she kept her pinned down, then this match was over. Rosalie had won.

She'd won.

But ... did she want that? Given the brief half-reprieve of simply having to lock her muscles tight and hold Delta in place, she was given a moment to think. If Rosalie held still, she'd win.

Which would mean she would get the 'favor'.

Which meant Delta wouldn't.

Rosalie couldn't ask for anything inappropriate. Her pride wouldn't allow her. Delta was the shameless one, not her. So if Rosalie wanted anything to come of this event, then Delta had to win.

Not that she wanted something to come of this event.

But ...

Rosalie's grip slipped.

Given even a small opening, Delta pried into it with vicious efficiency. In a flurry, she became the one pinned into the ground, locked into a pin by the naked girl she was wrestling with.

Rosalie gave it her best effort to come back, but once an effective grip had been established, it was almost impossible to break free.

That Rosalie's had? Well ... that was a fluke.

It hadn't been intentional.

Eventually, Rosalie was forced to admit defeat. She did give it her best effort breaking free, her pride demanding it of her, but Delta gave no such openings like Rosalie had. She finally went still, realizing the futility of continuing.

"I'm pinned," Rosalie said flatly. "You win. Get off me."

She tried desperately to ignore the reality of the situation. Delta's breasts pressed into her, their heated, sweat-slicked skin touching in more places than it wasn't. There was pressure—legs and arms and hands—in places distinctly difficult to ignore.

"You let me win," Delta panted, loosening her grip slightly, but not releasing Rosalie. "Why?"

"I didn't."

Delta tightened the pin, and Rosalie grunted. "At least admit it."

Rosalie refused to.

"You're so annoying," Delta growled.

"Says you?"

"You know what I think?" She leaned forward, breathing hot air into Rosalie's ear. "You want me make good use of the favor. So you gave it to me." Finally, Delta let go and rolled off. "And, fine. You better believe I will."