Magic Multiverse 9 (Patreon)

The next day, Sam played it boring, spending his morning tidying up his new studio flat, and his afternoon at work before taking a trip to the gym. He was tempted to knock on Hermione and Holly’s shared flat to test his luck, but he decided the risk wasn’t worth it.

He had already pushed a bit too much at the bar without knowing their link, saved only by pure luck. Things would have gone much worse if Holly had used a different spell to interrogate him.

Or, had a different personality.

The other thing he had done during the day was to test the changes between Intermediate and Advanced Tantric skills. The results left him very satisfied. Tantric wasn’t magic, but compared to usual treatments he hot, it might as well be, with special massages to boost healing for sore muscles and weak injuries.

He suspected that, even if he didn’t have any other assistance, just by Advanced Tantric, he could turn into a premier league footballer in less than three years, merely by training until his physical qualities caught up with the top players.

Not fearing the side effects of overtraining was a game-changer.

Too bad he couldn’t bring himself to take that dream seriously anymore. He looked behind the veil, and what he found was enough to take the shine out of his childhood dream.

It was also why he wasn’t panicking as he stood at the center of a converted warehouse outside London, hidden among abandoned factory buildings, with about six hundred people cheering for his demise while his opponent was raining punches on him, trying to take his head off.

When his opponent pulled back after another burst, he caught the clock. It had been seven minutes since the match had started.

A lot of time to fight without an official break, but that had been a surprise that Liam sprung on him at the last minute. Apparently, the twist in the fight was that there were no breaks, and they were supposed to fight until one of them was unconscious.

It was far harder than it sounded. Boxing was incredibly taxing even with three-minute rounds.

No wonder Liam was willing to pay a thousand for an untested boxer even in a loss, nor did he argued that much about the winner’s purse. His stamina wasn’t properly conditioned for such a fight.

Also, fighting without breaks made it even more dangerous in terms of head trauma, because exhausted people could commit dangerous mistakes.

There was a referee, but he was there only to prevent really dangerous stuff, like punches to the back of the head.

They wanted the fight to be bloody and raw, not actually deadly. At least, not on the ring.

His opponent, a tall bloke named Callum, was a veteran who was better than him, which made the challenge worse.

Ironically, if they were wearing gloves, Sam would have lost already. Thanks to his football conditioning, his lower body and general stamina were excellent, but the same couldn’t be said for his arms. Only by ‘rubbing’ his arms whenever Callum pulled back for a breather, he was able to keep going.

Otherwise, he would have been cramping already.

Callum attacked again, and he dodged and weaved between jabs, careful to avoid his nasty right hook while he responded with a chain of jabs, ignoring the bleeding from his temple.

Having a stamina advantage didn’t mean he could sit back and get punched, hoping to overlast his opponent. Tantric was an advantage, but a situational one.

Though, as he fought, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for Dudley. Without Dudley’s cruel tendency to bully him during their spars, he wouldn’t have developed such an evasive style. That, combined with the patience he developed as a midfielder, he managed to eke out a victory after fourteen minutes, once his opponent’s stamina drained too much.

And, that was only because Callum decided to fight patiently against the newcomer. Things would have been different if he rushed, not giving him the space to use Tantric.

[Underground Match Victory, +3 Boxing]

The reward was welcome. He expected merely a point, but got three. It was less than the street fight, but he couldn’t conclude that it was about the inherent danger. The street fight reward might still be about Hermione’s presence.

It was a good thing to focus on as the referee raised his arm while the bloodthirsty crowd cheered.

After a quick checkup from a doctor, though mostly there to make sure they weren’t under immediate risk of death due to internal bleeding, he was at the car with Liam once more. “You weren’t kidding, Sam. You are really good. I never saw a first-timer with so much composure in the ring. Ice in your veins. We’re going to make a lot of money together if you’re willing to work hard.”

“I’m used to playing for a crowd. Chasing a ball or punching a man doesn’t make that much difference,” he responded, not taking Liam’s compliments seriously. He had heard similar compliments before his leg injury.

“How about I arrange another fight for Sunday?” Liam asked. It was a greedy request, as fighting that often would come with long-term consequences for most people. Luckily, with Tantric, two days was more than enough.

Yet, he didn’t accept immediately. “I might. After all, the current fight wasn’t that painful, but only with a bump to the purse,” he said. “And, that’s the only time. After that, I only fight once a week.”

“How about three and a half thousand?” Liam replied.

He thought about it. “Five thousand.”

“That’s too much,” Liam argued.

“Come on, Liam, we both know it’s worth it. People driving an hour to watch the match should be paying quite generously for the tickets, meaning there’s a lot of money, even without the betting.”

“I’m not in charge of it,” he said. Sam snorted. He knew that technically it might be true, but he also knew that he wouldn’t get any bonus.

Liam paused, thinking. “Fine, but only if you actually commit to fighting once a week. And, if you lose, there won’t be any reward.”

“Deal,” Sam replied, shaking his hand. It was a grueling commitment fight once a week, but he could have fought even more. Without pushing for more money and more fights, he knew that he was leaving a lot of money on the table in the process, but he didn’t mind.

He couldn’t focus on money as his primary objective anymore. Currently, he had bigger priorities than chasing luxury.

Winning even half of the fights would give him ten thousand pounds a month, which was more than half of what he made a year. Points would be a nice extra.

Compared to real dangers, a few bottom-feeder boxers who had to fight in underground arenas didn’t count for much.

“Let’s celebrate this deal. I know a nice club that will be very fun,” Liam offered.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have plans with a beautiful lady already,” he replied. It was only technically true, but he wouldn’t have accepted it even if he hadn’t planned to call to Hermione and see if they could start their promised weekend early.

Liam was no philanthropist, and Sam was now an asset to him. One that would be much easier to control if he had ended up in a cards table and somehow lost fifty thousand and owed money to Liam.

He couldn’t get tangled with them. He had bigger things to worry about.

&&&

Luckily, when he called, it was Hermione who answered, so he gave her his new address, promising a surprise.

She arrived merely ten minutes later, which was too quick even if she had been already prepared, so he suspected that she took a magical shortcut, likely apparated. Since his Magical Combat skill had a lot of information to deal with apparation, it must be relatively easy for an adult to achieve.

When he heard the knock, he opened the door, but rather than inviting her explicitly, planned to take a step back and invite her implicitly. He didn’t suspect her to be a vampire, but it seemed like a good habit to get into.

But, when he saw what she was wearing, those plans flew out of his mind. She was wearing a trenchcoat, which was already open, and underneath, she wore a sexy black corset, as well as matching stockings and garter belt. She looked amazing.

Even her makeup was darker than usual, with her dark maroon lipstick completing the set.

“Hello—“ he started, only to be interrupted by her gasp.

“Merlin, what happened to you?” she gasped, her fingers carefully caressing his face, distracted enough that an absurd exclamation slipped out of her. She dropped her bag on the floor, and he closed the door while she examined him.

He realized the way his face looked might have been surprising. He didn’t expect her to react that way, which was his mistake. He wondered how she would have reacted without Tantric fixing the worst “I had a boxing match. Don’t worry, nothing serious. It’s just the surface stuff.”

“And, have you seen a doctor?”

“I did,” he said. A careless one, but still.

“Sit down and close your eyes. I’ll check,” she said, her voice sharp, brooking no argument.

“You’re playing the nurse, fun,” he teased, but sat down obediently. He acted as if he kept his eyes closed, though he kept them cracked. Even then, Hermione walked behind him before she reached for her wand, which he could only see thanks to a small mirror he had yet to move to its correct place.

She brushed along her forearm, and some kind of holster appeared. A flick of the wrist brought her wand to her hand, which she used to cast a spell. Seeing her relax, he suspected it was some kind of magical diagnostic. The wand disappeared just as quickly.

The whole movement had been smooth, and also quite alluring. Watching her in action while focused was sexy in a whole different way.

After checking with magic, she dragged her hands around his back and his face carefully. She walked in front of him. “Open your eyes,” she said, leaning down to check. She frowned. “Your pupils are dilated,” she said. That made him laugh. “Don’t laugh. It’s serious. Dilated pupils can be a sign of head trauma,” she said.

“They can also be about me appreciating the amazing view I’m getting,” he responded, his gaze dipping down.

Just like that, her competent aura dissipated, and she remembered how she had been dressed. “Oh, no,” she whimpered, trying to close her trenchcoat. “I ruined it.”

“I disagree, you are very sexy when you take charge,” he said as he pulled her onto his lap, and helped her remove her outerwear.

“Most people would call it being bossy,” she said, her tone suggesting it was a significant issue for her.

He kissed her. “You can’t help change the mind of every idiot, Hermione,” he replied, his hand already on her thigh.

“You’re right,” she said, then paused. “Now, what’s this about a boxing match? You haven’t mentioned it before.”

“It’s how I managed to get my new flat, actually. No more annoying roommates,” he explained. “It was a last-minute opportunity. One of the boxers dropped out at the last minute, and I had the opportunity to take his place.”

“Isn’t it a bit hasty?” she asked.

“Well, I won, so no,” he replied, teasing her, even though she had a point. From a purely boxing perspective, it was early. Without his boost from mid-fight massages, he wouldn’t have won. Even with it, if his opponent had decided to just attack relentlessly rather than keeping the pace slow while hoping for a mistake, he probably would have lost.

“Still,” she whispered.

“That’s how the world of sports works. When you see an opportunity, you take it, or it goes away. Same as life,” he said, pointedly not mentioning that the same hunger for opportunities resulted in her roommate on his lap, being fingered.

Since Hermione didn’t say anything, Holly must have kept a secret as well. And, in his defense, he knew her name only due to system.

“Be careful,” she said.

“I will.” She tried to stand up, but he grabbed her hips. “Where are you going?”

“I have an ointment in my bag. It’ll help with bruising and scars,” she said. He would much rather focus on playing with her sexy outfit, but at this point, he knew her too well. He nodded, and she left.

Though, he couldn’t say he complained about the sight when she bent down, showing off her ass, framed by the garter belt and stockings. She ruffled her bag a little too long for its small size, making him suspect that it was somewhat enchanted.

When she returned to his side, she was holding a squat glass jar that looked ancient and fancy. “Wow, I expected some skin cream, not this,” he teased her.

“Why?”

He decided to tease her. “I expected you to dismiss it as quack nonsense before giving a short but impassioned speech about science,” he said. His supposed lack of knowledge about magic allowed him to tease her easily.

“Well,” she said, blushing. “I mean, science is nice, but it doesn’t mean we have to throw away the wisdom of the past,” she whispered. He suspected her approach to magic was just as incisive as the other topics, but she was unable to admit that, so she used an excuse she hated.

She was cute when frustrated.

She opened the lid, scooped a tiny amount and spread on his bruises. To his surprise, it had a pleasant smell, better than most hand creams. The moment she spread it, he could feel the pain dimming. “I’ll leave it with you. Apply just a bit on the surface, and the next day, the bruise will disappear,” she said. Then, she added in panic. “Also, don’t share it. It requires some rare materials that are difficult to find. Also, it’s a family recipe, so don’t ask about it.”

“Deal,” he said as he took the ointment and put the side. He could have teased her about how suspicious it was, but that was not the best way to spend their day.

He appreciated the gift. While he suspected the rarity of herbs was an excuse to prevent him from asking too many questions, that made the ointment more valuable, not less. He kissed her, and she ended up rocking on his lap.

She rocked a few times, but he caught that she was absentminded. He pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, but he just gave her a pointed glare. “Fine. I was thinking … I have something else to try,” she whispered, her blush making it clear that it was sexual.

“You have the floor, Miss Granger,” he teased, which didn’t help her blush. She paused for a moment, then she slid down, and fell on her knees. That gave him a good idea of what she had in mind, but he let her move at her pace.

She stayed there for a moment, her hands on his thighs. He liked her expression of pure focus. He was willing to bet that she had already studied on how to do it, and currently reviewing her approach.

Her focused state was sexy, though accessories helped. Black corset and deep makeup, in particular, added a new aura. She fumbled with his pants a bit before freeing him. She stared at it for a second too long, then she leaned forward.

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” she said.

He wouldn’t dare to correct anyone else at the risk of ruining the mood, but Hermione always took feedback in bed very positively. “As you wish, beautiful,” he said.

She leaned, hesitating for a moment with her lips a breath away, and closed her eyes before going down. He didn’t say anything at first, letting her find her pace. She was warm but unsure, giving a little kiss before she went down, staying there a bit.

Her technique looked mechanical but somewhat practiced. Knowing her, she must have practiced on a banana or something before arriving. She always loved studying. Even her pace seemed memorized: three deep moves before pulling back for a kiss, then a lick, then repeat.

Somehow, its clumsiness, contrasting with her sexy outfit, made it even sexier. Maybe it was the fact that she learned just for him.

“Very good start,” he whispered as he gently grabbed her hair. “But, think of it like dancing. Vary your pace a bit. Half the fun is the unpredictability,” he teased.

“Is it?” she said, looking up, hesitant. “I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Follow my pace, then,” he said. “Also, keep eye contact. I like your eyes,” he teased.

She gulped, but when he directed her by his grip, she followed immediately, her expression split between shyness and determination.

She looked sexy and obedient at the same time, which would have been enough to drive him crazy with arousal if her outfit hadn’t already done it.

He controlled her pace, but once he hit her throat, he didn’t push for more, realizing that it was too early for it. Instead, he bobbed her head in the shallow end, enjoying the desperate clamp of her lips, her lipstick leaving stains along his length.

“That’s it. Use your tongue underneath,” he whispered in a soothing tone.

Then, a while later, her expression shifted, attaining the same focus she did while studying. That surprised him until she tightened her grip, and pushed down sharply, even as she gagged at the sudden invasion. She pulled back and repeated.

“Always the overachiever, aren’t you,” he teased, which made her look smug, though she only managed to maintain it for a moment, sinking down until her eyes started to water, her mascara running down.

It looked incredible. He watched as she showed how determined she could get, worshiping his length. “Good girl. Now, show me how deep you can go.”

She whimpered, but that didn’t prevent her from pushing down, getting familiar with the pace. He had to admire her willpower. Her pace alternated between quick and maddening, ordering him to explode. Admittedly, he could have ignored the tightness of her throat, magnificent as it was.

Her gaze was harder to ignore. She managed to maintain eye contact as she worked hard, even as her mascara continued to run down with the strain, her gaze ordering him to explode.

Inevitably, he did, pulling back at the last second, covering her beautiful face with his seed while she coughed and wheezed. Yet, despite that, she smiled. “Think of it as my apology for skipping our date,” she whispered.

“A beautiful apology,” he responded.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she whispered.

“How so?” he asked.

“That’s only the first part of your apology,” she replied, her smile maddeningly sexy with her face ruined by his seed and makeup. “Just go to the bed and wait for the next part,” she added, grabbing her bag before she walked to his bathroom.

The system designated him as the loser of the exchange, but watching her walk into the bathroom with a sexy sway at her hips, he certainly didn’t feel like a loser.

No, he felt like a winner.