Magic Multiverse 28 (Patreon)

As he stood across Buffy, watching her warm up against a sandbag, he found himself suffering his weirdest arousal. Whenever she hit the bag, it moved as if it was filled rather than weighted with sand, far more than he could achieve even if he put his full weight into it and delivered a carnival punch rather than a functional one.

Worse, they were more like casual jabs rather than fully weighed punches.

He hummed, realizing that even now, he might have underestimated her strength. It was a troubling realization. Not because he was afraid of her, but because he knew there were enemies that gave her trouble.

“Are you sure you want to spar?” Buffy said once she finished warming up. “There’s no shame in fearing the Slayer.” Her tone was joking, but he didn’t miss the undertone of vulnerability there.

“Have you ever killed anyone accidentally while sparring?” he asked, though made sure to keep his tone joking.

“Of course not,” she gasped, scandalized.

“Crippled anyone?” he added.

“Talk like that, and you’ll be the first one,” she responded, then looked away. “I might have caused one or two fractures when I misjudged my power,” she said.

“I’m a big guy. I can handle a fracture or two,” he said, and he wasn’t just trying to look tough to Buffy. His encounters with vampires had always relied on their lack of skill, their recklessness, and most importantly, their one giant weakness.

A weakness that other supernatural threats didn’t share.

He needed to develop a better style if he were to survive. Admittedly, that style would have to rely on weapons, but Boxing was still his best combat skill and the one that he could improve the easiest thanks to Buffy’s unknowing generosity.

Perfect for testing his ideas.

“Well, your funeral,” she said.

“As long as it’s not a literal one,” he teased her, and they moved to the center of the mat rather than the ring. Extra mobility would work to his benefit. Not because she was slower, but he was the one who needed the space to retreat.

He settled into the Philly Shell stance, which required him to angle his body to minimize his vulnerable area and deliver effective counter-punches. It was a style preferred by certain defensive-minded boxers competing in the super-heavyweight category, designed to counter strong but direct boxers.

The biggest advantage of the style compared to other defensive styles was that it kept his vision unobstructed. Even more important for him, because, unlike a heavyweight boxer, he didn’t have the luxury of taking the weaker punches.

“Ready?” she said.

He nodded, and she moved forward. She delivered a basic combo, two jabs and a straight, and he could sense she was restraining herself to an extreme degree. Still, the jabs hit like a truck, and if he hadn’t pulled back, the straight would have likely knocked him out.

It was humbling.

“Not bad,” she said, moving forward. The distance between them evaporated, and punches rained once more. This time, when he tried to retreat, she maintained the distance, the straight punch impossible to escape.

He pulled a risky move, parrying the punch by tagging the side. In a boxing match, it would have been an unnecessary, showy gamble. Parrying was usually not preferred to blocking in most cases, relied on only by some specialized experts, but the way he was doing was worse. He wasn’t just trying to misdirect her punch with a small tap, but actually putting some weight into it to send her punch veering away.

It allowed him to survive three straight punches from her before he misjudged the speed of a jab. Fortunately, it landed as a body shot. Unfortunately, it was still enough to knock him down.

“Are you alright?” she said as she immediately crouched down.

He forced himself to smile rather than grimace, and stole a quick kiss. “Much better,” he said and stood up.

“We can take a break,” she said.

“No need. We can continue,” he said.

She attacked again, though this time she was more restrained. Too restrained, which allowed him to parry the punch, and deliver a body shot of his own. One that he held back, which she punished with another punch that sent him down. “Believe me, you don’t have to hold back against me,” she said, this time actually showing displeasure. “If I can shrug off the punch of a vampire, I can shrug off yours.”

He didn’t argue. “I deserved it,” he said. “But, in my defense, I at least managed to slip into your guard. That’s a win.”

“A tiny one,” she said.

“As tiny as you,” he teased.

“Not when you’re lying on the ground,” she responded and attacked again, this time even faster. Thirty seconds, maybe even less, and he was on the ground once more. “See. I’m taller.”

“It doesn’t make you grow any taller,” he responded as he looked up. “However, the angle makes you even sexier.”

Just like that, her playful anger was gone, replaced by a deep blush. “It does?” she said.

“Of course,” he said while she pulled him to his feet, and rather than pulling back, he kissed her.

“If you’re going to kiss me every time I knock you down, you’re teaching me some bad habits,” she said.

“Then I will kiss you even more when you’re not punching me,” he responded, slid back and took his stance, and continued landing on his back in a way that was utterly not fun. Even with gloves and holding back, her hits were painful.

But, the benefits were equally incredible.

One advantage of his Expert Boxing, that it gave him a strong basis across different styles and stances, which allowed him to mix and match. Most of the additions he made would be called bad habits by boxing coaches, because fighting as he did would make him lose a lot of points unnecessarily.

The rules of official boxing matches were not exactly his priority. Instead, he used Buffy’s increasingly merciless attacks to optimize his evasive style.

“I think that’s enough boxing for the day,” he said, finally calling it a stop after the most painful hour of his life, removing his gloves. He probably pushed more, but he had two reasons not to push.

“Already surrendering,” she teased, but her tone was different. Despite putting him on the ground without exception, she seemed to respect him more. He would count as a win.

“No, but I got my hands on a crossbow. I want you to teach me the basics before I join you on patrol,” he said. “I need the variety.”

“Really? Why put all that effort in boxing if you’re happy with the ranged option?”

He smiled. While the answer was his System potentially allowing him to improve rapidly, he had a better answer. “I want to optimize boxing to learn how to survive in an emergency. I want to learn how to use a crossbow to help you.”

She didn’t immediately answer, so he distracted her with a kiss. He could see that even with his track record of dealing with vampires, she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about bringing him along.

Considering how easily she threw him around even when holding back, he didn’t blame her.

Though, he admitted that, without his own little advantage that continued to compound, he would have felt emasculated. The way he handled his injury in the past was enough evidence that he wasn’t exactly even minded when dealing with failure.

“But, before focusing on ranged, I will teach you some wrestling,” he said.

“If you think you will have any luck in—“ she started, only to freeze when his hands landed on her in a way that was distinctly not wrestling. “W-well, wrestling might be fun,” she whispered.

Together, they tested how the mats held during … wrestling.

&&&

[+15 Tantric]

[+ 30 Boxing]

He hummed as they stood in front of a wooden board with a hastily drawn target. He was holding a crossbow, his attention split three ways. One of them was to process the improvement he got from the Boxing skill. At Expert, thirty points shouldn’t make a huge difference, but to his surprise, it helped far more than he expected, as it was focused on almost exclusively on his excessive parry-focused defensive style, filling some of the gaps.

It was a very valuable realization, and not just for his boxing skill. Potentially, he could use it to enhance his understanding of Wiccan magic in the direction he wished. As for whether he could push it more, he needed to see.

The second was about Buffy teaching him how to hold a crossbow properly, going through the basics.

His last focus was the rest of her body, because he had managed to convince her to give the lesson naked, making it a bit distracting, but it was worth it.

“Now, let’s see how you’ll handle this,” she said, giving the crossbow to him. “It’s not that hard, but you have to keep your off-hand under the stock. Don’t grip; it ruins the stability of the shot.”

“Understood, mistress,” he teased her, their naked bodies rubbing together, though he kept it pointed away.

“D-don’t call me that,” she whispered, her whole body blushing, every detail visible.

“Yes, mistress,” he teased her, but didn’t pull any trick while holding the crossbow. It might not be as dangerous as a gun, but that didn’t make it safe.

“Now, it’s a ten-yard shot against a stationary target, so it’s not that complicated,” she said.

“Nine meters,” he teased.

“Ten yards,” she insisted playfully. “Also, you’re English. You’re the ones who taught Americans this stuff. Why are you complaining?”

He chuckled. “Come on, Buffy. Making a mess, then changing our mind and act like we had nothing to do with it in the first place is the true British way. I’m just living my culture.”

“Right,” she growled playfully. “Maybe I should bring a longbow and see how well you can follow the British traditions,” she teased.

“Only when you want to humiliate me,” he responded, aware that, even with the System, actually learning to shoot a longbow wouldn’t be a straightforward process.

“The more you complain about meters and yards, the more tempting it gets,” she said. “Now, as a starter, put the stock on your shoulder. Crossbow doesn’t have a recoil as bad as a gun, but it’s not exactly soft either.”

"Like this?"

"Better. Also, try to aim three inches above the target. Vertical drop is always worse than you think with a crossbow."

He nodded. It sounded a bit excessive, but he decided to listen to the supernatural hunter with magical skills. Especially when he didn’t have one for himself. Also, compensating for the drop wasn’t that much of a problem when she explicitly said it.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled until he had no breath left, pressing the trigger just as he had no breath left; trying to apply his aiming trick from darts. The biggest beginner mistake was to inhale and hold the breath, making the muscles tense.

“Right on target,” he bragged, glad that his darts habits proved useful. Admittedly, it wasn’t perfect, because they weren’t using a standard target. If they were, it would have landed somewhere between the eight and six range. Their target was fist-sized.

The crossbow needed to hit the heart to kill a vampire.

“Not bad,” she said, examining the shot. “Is this really the first time you’re shooting a crossbow?”

“Yes,” he said, not mentioning how his darts knowledge had benefited him, because he was still hoping to get some quick points by hunting vampires. Also, looking like a super genius would help to conceal the System.

They moved forward to a degree, which gave them more than he expected. A few more tries later, he was hitting the target consistently from ten yards, and even from twenty yards, he had decent success.

“Impressive,” she said as she grabbed the crossbow loaded and raised it casually. Unlike him, she didn’t balance with her offhand, or even bring the stock to her shoulder. Yet, her aim was perfect, splitting the bolt he had used. “Of course, you still need to practice more.”

She turned to him with a smug yet teasing smile. He had to admit, he fount her competence sexy … though it might be about her still being nude. “That sounds like a challenge,” he said as he realized a little trick he might pull.

One that might result in a System Reward.

“What if it’s a challenge?” she said. “You think you can win against me?”

“In a direct competition, no,” he said. “But, what if we put some creative rules?”

“What, like I shoot blindfolded and you with your eyes open?” she said dismissively, and he suspected that she would still be the winner. Not to mention, he suspected lopsided rules wouldn’t work, just like how ambushes didn’t give him points.

“No, something fairer,” he said. “We will take shoots from thirty yards, but the other will be allowed to distract the other by touching. No pushing and no manipulating the shooting arm. Just touching.”

Her eyes widened. “When you say touching…”

“Exactly,” he responded. “Of course, if you’re afraid—“

“Of course I’m not,” she said. “I’m never afraid.”

“Fine, the bet is … winner picks the outfit for the loser during the next date.”

“Like when we visit Bronze?” she asked.

He smirked. “No, the private part,” he said. Admittedly, he didn’t know whether it would quality it as a competition, which he hadn’t been able to test a lot. Hermione hadn’t been the most competitive person, and with the others, he had always been in a rush.

If it failed, then it failed. It wasn’t as if it was going to be unpleasant.

“Deal,” she said, a little too quick; enough to tempt him for a loss just to see what she had in mind. Unfortunately, he needed more skill points than addressing that specific sense of curiosity. “Three shots each.”

He nodded as he took the crossbow, moved to the correct spot, and carefully took his stance. Admittedly, thirty yards was not that easy, especially since, unlike before, Buffy wasn’t whispering suggestions about the correct drop rate. Instead, her hands were around his shaft, pumping playfully.

Darts wasn’t the only esoteric skill he could lean on. Meditation allowed him to sharpen his focus, and he shot.

On target.

“Not bad, right?”

“Well, it’s merely on the edge,” she said as she grabbed the crossbow.

However, while she was putting the bolt in place, he was already working her body, one hand teasing her nipple, the other already dancing around her clit, the full knowledge of Tantric ready to bear. Her eyes widened as a whimper escaped her mouth. “Your turn.”

Her breath hitched. “If you think that’s enough to distract me, be ready to lose,” she said.

Luckily, it was not. She still wanted to show off, so used a one-handed grip. And, bringing her to a dangerous level of arousal was easy after the earlier celebration combined with the nude teaching trick.

Just as her finger tensed, he squeezed her nipple, the jolt of pleasure enough to send her bolt off target. “First point for me, Miss Slayer,” he whispered.

“You want to play,” she whispered.

“With you, always,” he whispered, which made her blush.

He took his second shot with Buffy plastered behind his back, her breasts rubbing against him while her hands worked his shaft. Without the Meditation to help, he might have missed the broadside of a barn.

Right now, he barely managed to hit the edge of the fist-sized target.

For her second shot, he decided to be more playful. He stood behind her, his shaft rubbing against her wetness, building the pleasure. Unfortunately, before he could build up the pleasure, she loaded the crossbow and fired, almost instantaneously.

On target.

“How about it?” she said as she pushed her hips down, devouring the crown for a bit. “If you miss the next shoot, I’ll have a chance to draw.” He didn’t hide his moan, even as he picked the crossbow.

For the next shot, she immediately fell to her knees, taking him deep into her throat, showing off the other benefit of her Slayer endurance. “Someone is playing for the win,” he said, but that didn’t prevent a moan from exploding.

He took a deep breath, doing his best to focus on his aim, which was difficult when Buffy was doing his best to drive him crazy. Ignoring the incredible grip on her throat was considerably harder than a playful hand job.

She had learned too well.

He had to take deep breaths twice, carefully doing his best to utilize his Meditation. When he shot, he was on target.

But, it was a close call.

[Casual Crossbow Game Victory, +5 Crossbow]

[Main Character Defeated, Buffy Summers]

[+10 Boxing]

He hummed, happy with the results, including the fact that it actually gave him the win. She pulled back, looking even cuter. She was aroused, but he could also see that, regardless of the context, she hated losing as well.

He couldn’t blame her. “Again,” she said. “Double or nothing?”

“Tempting, but I have a better idea. If you win, we’ll have a night of total control each rather than returning to zero.”

“Much better,” she said.

Unfortunately for her, her plan had backfired. Not because she wasn’t incredible at distracting. Of the next three, he actually missed two of them despite his best effort.

However, she missed all of them, because while her desperate blowjob worked wonders to distract him, it also brought her very close to a climax, allowing him to play her on the edge, almost like a puppet.

[Casual Crossbow Game Victory, +5 Crossbow]

[Main Character Defeated, Buffy Summers]

[+10 Boxing]

[Crossbow Uninitiated -> Basic]

“You lost,” he said as he tightened his grip on her hips and pushed inside her. The game had been fun, but even with the points on the line, he wasn’t ready to play another round. Neither was Buffy, if the moan she let out when he pulled her hair back was any indicator.

She let the crossbow fall on the ground, and soon their bodies followed, putting the softness of the mat to the best of use.

They stopped only an hour later, when it was starting to get dark, because it was time to patrol.

[+15 Tantric]

[+ 30 Boxing]

He had to admit, Buffy was an excellent teacher, and even a better student…