1.05 ❤ Self Care

“Well,” Rosalie said. “You’re better than most novices. If you keep out of the way, you might be able to help. In … some small way.”

It was far from glowing praise, but it meant Zoey wouldn’t be forced to stay out of the action entirely. That was a win, in her book.

And why the hell was spellcasting—utilizing her Rune of Arcana—so difficult? Hadn’t she been summoned to this world by a literal goddess … shouldn’t she be a prodigy at everything she did, or something? Instead, Rosalie seemed distinctly unimpressed, even after Zoey had spent an hour clumsily crafting together one-circle spells, and the same one again and again: a simple ice spike given velocity.

“Now,” Rosalie said. “For your mana situation.”

It’s called lust, actually. Zoey had picked up a thing or two about how this world worked, by now, during the lessons Rosalie had provided her. Mana was what normal mages used to fuel their spells, but Zoey’s resource system had been replaced by ‘lust’, which was recharged by … well, by things such as what she and Rosalie had done in the coffin, which had been what topped her off in the first place.

“I’m running low,” Zoey said with a nod. “It’s time for us to recharge.”

Rosalie stared. “Us?”

Zoey blinked. She realized the assumption she had made. “Well, I just mean, uh, it says bonded targets provide more … and I figured—”

“You are perfectly capable of jerking yourself off, thank you very much,” Rosalie’s incredulous reply came.

It seemed Zoey’s earlier assumption—that their intimacy in the coffin had been a one-time thing—was true.

“Right,” Zoey said. “Right. Didn’t mean to assume—uh. Anyway. So, like, I should do that now, then?”

“Unless you’re waiting on something?” She made a shooing motion. “Do it in the corner. And don’t let me hear you.”

Zoey paused, feeling a bit demeaned. “I know this is an odd situation, but—”

“A disgusting one, actually.”

“Disgusting?” Her temper flared; Rosalie’s snippiness was getting to her. “You didn’t think that an hour ago, did you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You were just as into it as me, princess.”

“I was not.” The words were two full octaves higher than normal.

“That body racking orgasm was … an act, then?”

“Orgasm? I absolutely did not. Are you—are you insane?”

Zoey stared incredulously. She was denying that? “Okay. The fact you joined in, then? Or are you denying the humping, too?”

“Because I wanted it over faster, pervert. And you told me to.”

“There’s no need for insults.”

“And there’s no need for you to be propositioning me to jerk you off, either. But you did that, didn’t you?”

Zoey realized she needed to be the mature one here. Rosalie’s embarrassment over sexual matters was even higher than Zoey had thought it would be. And while the harsh rejection and insults stung, she could tell Rosalie needed to be able to deny what had happened—for her own comfort. Zoey could do that, at least.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll go … take care of it. Alone.”

“Don’t take too long.”

Zoey bit her tongue on a retort. Rosalie had been otherwise pleasant—if serious and domineering—up until this point. She’d only been rude when sex had been brought up.

Well, not even sex. It’d just have been a handjob. But whatever.

Zoey walked to the corner, feeling like a pretty giant idiot. ‘Don’t make any noise’? Could this be any more embarrassing?

She shrugged off the banner she’d been wearing, then set it out against the floor to sit on. It shielded her from the grime and dirt of the stonebrick, though the banner itself wasn’t the cleanest thing.

She spread her legs out and stared down at her cock.

Well. Time to make personal acquaintance. She hadn’t had an opportunity to do that, yet.

She poked at the sensitive flesh. Even when it was soft, the size of the thing was comically unwieldy. Zoey had always preferred girls, so cocks hadn’t ever done much for her. Strap-ons were fun, sure, and she didn’t have anything against cocks; just, she’d never been interested in men, so.

Having her own wasn’t so bad. At least as far as that interaction with Rosalie had gone.

At the reminder, she started to grow.

She wrapped a hand around the shaft, feeling it expand in her soft grip—and wondering at her slim, feminine fingers wrapped around the massive rod of meat. It was probably—scratch that, definitely—weird to be turned on by seeing her own hand wrapped around her cock, at seeing her own cock grow, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t do something for her: the mismatch in sizes, the way she could barely fit it in her grip. Seriously, why the hell was it so big? Ephy must have a size kink, to be forcing a monster like this onto Zoey.

And maybe Zoey had a bit of one, too, based on how she admired the fact it just kept growing. Especially since Ephy implied the whole ‘fitting’ thing shouldn’t be an issue, once she ‘figured out her runes’. Which hadn’t happened yet, but runes evolved and new skills were revealed, so Zoey assumed that’d be down the line.

Finally full mast, Zoey admired her impressive weapon. She gripped it in both hands, thin fingers covering a comically small amount of space.

So. Jerking off, guy-style. How did it work? It couldn’t be that complicated. Didn’t they use lotion, though, or something? Lubricant?

She gripped herself and ran her hands up and down, but with how much real estate there was, Zoey quickly realized she’d be needing some sliding, if she wanted to be effective about things. Unless … a hand went to the top, where she caressed the tip, then tried a few jerking motions. Zoey winced in pleasure—that had definitely been better. But still. Lubricant would help.

Her spit?

There was no shot she could produce enough to cover herself, not with her size, and spit dried up pretty fast anyway. After being spoiled by Rosalie’s convulsing, sweaty body, Zoey could tell it would take some work to get herself off; spit wouldn’t last long enough. Her first interaction had set a high bar, and since she’d been so thoroughly emptied just an hour prior, she didn’t even have the advantage of being pent up.

An idea popped into her head. She shimmied on her butt a few feet to the wall, where the vines sprouted between the stonebrick. They still glistened in the flickering orange torchlight, covered in that slick liquid Zoey had noticed when they’d first arrived.

Well. How convenient.

She wiped both hands across the various green protrusions, collecting the lubricant across her fingers, then she re-gripped her cock and started spreading the liquid. The effort worked fabulously; a few more applications, and Zoey’s cock glistened in the light, covered from base to tip in the oily liquid.

Zoey gave it another shot: she ran both hands up, then down, squeezing with a firm grip. Her cock pulsed happily, and Zoey let out a breathless moan of content.

Time to get to it, then.

Zoey laid down across the red banner draped on the floor, then closed her eyes and got to work.

She experimented for a bit. The cockhead was most sensitive, of course. Squeezing her fingers shut, then having her cock pierce between them, felt heavenly, like Zoey was slipping into some lewd part of a woman, and not her own hand. But it was also bursts of pleasure, where simply working away in a pumping motion with both hands served better for building her toward orgasm. Which was still a long way off. She didn’t even feel hints of it yet, for all that she was enjoying her efforts.

Probably need some mental assistance. There was an obvious person to fantasize about, especially considering they’d already mutually orgasmed against each other during one of the most erotic situations Zoey had ever found herself in. So she focused on that memory: on the feeling of her cock grinding against Rosalie, and all the cute, agonized noises she’d been making as she tried desperately to get herself off.

Definitely working, Zoey thought as another breathless moan escaped her lips.

A squeaking noise pierced the room, briefly making Zoey open her eyes, before shutting them and refocusing. Zoey assumed Rosalie had looked over and seen Zoey working away at her enormous shaft. Zoey might’ve laughed if her attention hadn’t been so intently directed at coaxing out the building pleasure in her member. Because had Rosalie thought Zoey wouldn’t make any noise? Zoey would be accommodating where she could, but not that accommodating. And it’d been her fault she’d looked over. What Zoey would be doing was pretty obvious.

Zoey’s hips started moving on their own accord, joining in on her hands' efforts in milking out an intensifying pleasure that finally made itself apparent, that starting building deep in her cock, and the core of her stomach, heralding the start of the end. She pumped faster, falling deeper into her fantasies. It wasn’t her hands sliding up and down her cock, but actually the spasming walls of the cute, serious platinum-haired blondie in the other corner of the room. Rosalie’s cunt squeezed around Zoey’s cock as she bounced up and down, ass impacting her crotch, the tight, hot wetness of her breeding hole doing its hardest to fulfill its biological imperative. It wanted to be filled. It wanted to be stuffed to overflowing with Zoey’s hot seed. And she could provide that, couldn’t she? Just had to work … a little harder. Go a little faster. Harder. Faster. Please. Please.

Zoey’s feet slid back on their own accord, and she arched her back, so that only her feet and shoulders were making contact with the ground. Her hands pistoned with as much speed and strength as she could muster. Her cock stuck out an angle, and she realized in this position she’d be spraying all over herself, but in the condition her melting mind was in, she didn’t care remotely. It was coming. The heat. The pulsating, aching, relief. She needed to empty herself. It was Rosalie’s tight pussy begging for it. Zoey could do it. For her. For Rosalie. She needed to be filled. To be bred. To have Zoey’s sticky spunk spraying into her womb.

Zoey whined as she milked out her first solo orgasm.

It erupted with a spasm, and a hot splash of liquid hit Zoey’s face. She wasn’t particularly interested in tasting it, so she cemented her lips shut, but the idea she was coming over her own face was insanely hot, so rather than aiming away, Zoey let the next spray hit the same place again. With the strength and lack of finesse Zoey was pumping away with, plenty of her baby batter went astray: across her stomach, tits, shoulders, neck, and surely everywhere nearby, too, not just her face. Like her previous orgasm, Zoey had a lot of spunk to shoot out; that it’d been only an hour since her last didn’t seem to matter. Her face was well and thoroughly covered by the time Zoey’s hips sagged down, and she had coaxed out every last drop she could manage.

She lay panting on the ground for a while, then finally sat up and started cleaning herself, starting with clearing the spunk from her eyes, so she could open them.

She had a shard to explore. Saving the world wasn’t all perversion.

Just mostly, from the look of things.