You hissed when his claws dug deeper into the fat of your thighs, threatening to draw blood. 

With gentle hands, you tried to swat the hands away, slapping the back of them until he let go. 

“Don’t worry,” you assured, “This is normal. It’s not normal blood.” 

He hummed in confusion, eyes flicking from your face to your crotch before pressing his face flush against the middle of your pants, breathing in heavily before lolling his tongue out, the green muscle leaving a small damp stain as he licked you through the fabric.

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the blankets off of you to offset the heat that rolled through your body. Pursuer continued to sniff wildly against your pussy, the action making you flush. 

Your hands found pushed gently against the top of his head, trying to get him off of you. 

“Smell blood.” He repeated as he leaned back, the white surface of his face stained red. “Hurt?” 

The concern on his face was almost endearing. “Nono,” you were quick to correct, “This is normal! It’s good, even.” 

His gaze bore into you as if observing every microexpression on your face. The intensity of it made you gulp, audible in the silent night.

“Are you gon- Ow!” You yelped, body jerking up only to be held down by his bruising grip. Your inner thigh ached as his teeth dug into the soft flesh, “What was that for?!” 

His face was cool against your warming skin, biting hard enough to make you think he broke skin, though thankfully he popped off right before he did. “Hungry.” He said bluntly, tongue dragging against your blood-soaked underwear.

You thought about pushing him away, and you had no doubt that if you did, he would’ve swallowed his hunger and left you alone. But there was a certain heat boiling in your gut, low and heavy and uncomfortable. 

Well — it’s not like it was doing any harm was it? He would get his fill, and you would get off. 

With a sigh, you pulled the rest of the covers from your body, “Fine, but don’t make a mess.” 

Pursuer’s smile was almost off-putting, at least if it was directed at anyone but you. 

You lifted your hips, fingers catching at the band of your pants before slipping them off. You sucked your teeth at the shift of your blood-stained clothing, resolving to throw it in the wash later. 

Right now, all you were worried about was the monster between your legs, drool slipping from his lips and eyes boring into you, waiting oh-so patiently for your permission. 

You tapped at his hands to loosen his grip, the pain from his claws making you wince. He seemed to get the hint, and with you swung your now free legs over his shoulders, ankles crossing as you brought him close to your slick sex. 

His face made no reaction to your bold move, his gaze continuously trained on you. You swallowed hard. He looked like he wanted to devour you whole.

You could feel the hunger in his eyes, and you tried to push down your fear and convince yourself he would never hurt you. 

With a bit of hesitation, you nodded, gasping as his mouth immediately latched onto your pussy, his thick tongue licking a strip between your folds. 

It felt weird, even more so because of the amount of blood clinging to your skin and the almost animalistic way he drank it down.

Your thighs clamped around his head, expecting but not prepared for the sudden onslaught of pleasure. 

“W-wait!” You called out, hands reaching down to try to pry him off of you. Though it was no use, once the beast tasted you, he wasn’t going to stop until he had his fill. 

Having failed their purpose, your arms fell limply to your sides, one raising to cup itself around your mouth to silence your moans.

His tongue slid between your folds, metallic blood hitting his tastebuds like ambrosia. Truly, nothing compared to the taste of you. 

The groan he let out was deep and animalistic, the vibration against your clit making you squirm. 

His eyes fluttered shut, utterly content to spend forever in between your legs — if not that, then at least for the week of your bleeding. He swore he’d do his duty of keeping you clean, of lapping up every once of blood like it was some treasure. 

He was addicted to you — not just your taste, but you. Your scent, your moans, your expression, all of it triggered some sort of primal instinct in him. That fixation was the main reason he hadn’t devoured you like the others. 

Even as his teeth itched to dig into you, he held back because he knew it was far more worthy to keep you around. 

Pursuer’s insistent licking had cleaned the blood off of your pussy, but he was far from satisfied. There was more, he could sense it. 

His thick tongue, almost as big as a normal man’s cock, followed your natural folds, trailing its way lower until it dipped into your hole. 

You gasped and tightened your thighs around his head, legs jerking and bringing him closer to your pussy. 

Not that the monster minded, if anything it just let his tongue reach deeper inside of you, blood-soaked walls clinging and clenching around the practically penetrative muscle. 

You threw your head back against the pillow, hips raising off of the bed as if you were trying to escape the feeling of his mouth on your sex. 

Pursuer didn’t mind though, the angle made it easier to explore your insides. His hands found themselves at your hips, using the tips of his fingers to hold you in place so as to not hurt you with his claws. 

There was no running away, no matter how much you wriggled, he wasn’t gonna let you go. 

Pleasure rose slowly through your spine, toes curling behind his head as you rolled your hips against his face. 

Warmth spread through you, the tips of your limbs tingled with the buzz of sleep and sensitivity. You truly were blessed to have him, so eager and desperate for you. 

His eyes were half-lidded, clouded in desire as he slid his tongue in and out of you. It slipped out just for a second, his hot and heavy breath fanning over you as he breathed you in. 

You could hear him inhale, tongue rolled over your clit as he sucked needily on the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Your hips bucked upwards into his mouth, curses spilling from your lips as you chased the orgasm you could feel building up.

The bed creaked as Pursuer humped the bed, his cock rubbing against the sheets absent-mindedly. You wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for the long, drawn out groan he let out, eyes rolling back as if he was the one getting pleasured and not you.

At that moment, you were his world, your thighs wrapped around his head, your heat on his face, eyes trained on you. 

You could feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach, chasing away and taking over the beginning of your cramps. 

“M-more,” you pleaded, desperately grinding your pussy against his face. 

His tongue retook its position inside of you, this time eating you out with renewed fervor. The room was filled with sounds of sucking, and if you weren’t so out of it, you would’ve been embarrassed with how loud you were.

The taste of your slick was almost as good as your blood. He couldn’t stop himself from fucking into you just to get more of it, pressing his face closer until he was flush against your sex. 

Your nails gripped the sheets, digging into your palms as pressure built and built inside of you. 

The grip on your hips tightened, arms pulling you as close as he could. Your eyes widened as his tongue grazed against your g-spot, a sharp moan leaving your lips as the pleasure sent you over the edge. 

Pursuer noticed how tight you got, focusing on the spongey part of you while gulping down the cum that came out of you. The sound of him slurping you down was almost as loud as your moans. 

You rode out your orgasm on his tongue, not stopping even as your body started to shake from overstimulation. 

He didn’t even notice, too focused on the blissful feeling of being between your legs and the feeling of his cock leaking against the bed. 

Your orgasm brought more blood from you, and while part of you was mortified, the creature was far from bothered by it. He made sure to swallow all of it, the liquid landing in his stomach and spreading a certain warmth through him.

You would’ve protested if it didn’t feel so good, eyes rolling back and drool spilling from your lips as your back arched into his mouth.. 

It didn’t take long for his own orgasm to follow, hips stuttering against the mattress as he came. His large load spilled onto the fabric, coating and staining the sheets with his release. 

Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to bear through the painful prick of overstimulation. The feeling of his groans and grunts sending vibrations into your already sensitive cunt made you wince. 

You uncrossed your legs, and with a tap on the top of his head, he withdrew his tongue from you, dragging against your twitching walls.

Your body shock with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and it took everything in your to not fall back asleep. You would’ve if it weren’t for the mess that was no doubt between your legs. 

“Pursuer,” you whispered, voice thick with spit and drowsiness, “Help me get up.” 

Despite your asking, he made no move to move, eyes flickering between your still-wet cunt and your blissed out face. 

A low growl rumbled from his chest, his green tongue slipping out once more to lick against your slit.

Your legs jerked upward, almost kneeing him as the action sent overwhelming pleasure through you. You reached your hands down, pressing against his forehead and pushing him away from your sex. 

“No,” you commanded, “can’t do it again.”

You refused to let up even as he grumbled, and even though you knew that he could easily overpower you, he gave up, satisfied that he had thoroughly cleaned you of your blood. 

Though, with every, you knew it wouldn’t be long before there was more for him to devour. 

For now though, you let your muscles relax against the soft cushion of the bed, practically melting into it as you basked in your afterglow. 

Pursuer curled up next to you, wiping his blood-stained face against the sheets and making you cringe. 

You’d have to clean that later, or maybe just throw it away all together. 

Whatever, you’d worry about that later. Right now you were too focused on the fluffy warmth of his body next to you, practically purring as you cuddled up into him. 

Part of you was thankful for being born a woman. As hellish as your periods were, at least he enjoyed them.

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Even as a child, you were always so enthralled by magic.

Your parents wouldn't allow you to watch performances by famous magicians from all over the world, but you never listened. Instead of accepting your parents' answer and dropping the topic, you'd watch magicians perform live on TV if you ever had the chance.

Their movements were captivating and mesmerising. You knew magic wasn't real. You knew wizardry was a lie. But deep down, the childish nature in you couldn't help but marvel at how a white rose, pure and unblemished by the world's impurities, could manifest with a flick of the wrist. You couldn't help but be enchanted by the conjurers' sleight of hand.

You wanted to give in to those illusions. Reality be damned, you wanted to believe magic was real. But even as a child, the realist part of your mind pushed those thoughts to the side.

Now, you stood before a theatre. Years had passed since you first fell in love with magic. You had grown up.

But you growing up didn't stop the child within you from dying out. What growing up did bring, however, was a stable source of income.

So, you used some of your "entertainment money" to buy a ticket to a performance in your city. You didn't want to sit all the way in front to avoid cracking your neck trying to look up at the stage, nor did you want to sit at the back and squint to see an iota of what was going on all the way at the front. Because of that, you picked a seat somewhere in the middle. A seat that was just right, where you could quietly watch and immerse yourself in the performance.

You read about the magician performing in the papers. Artful. He was an up-and-coming magician. His career had only kicked off a month prior, but he was already famous worldwide for his theatrics and flair. The performance that night promised to be, in the advert you came across, the "best performance of your life".

The theatre was luxurious, far grander than anything you could have expected. The curtains, a rich red in colour and made of the smoothest silk, were drawn, hiding the stage from the spectators' eyes. Long, golden tassels, which lined the curtains, draped across the stage and trailed over the edge. As you found your designated seat, you practically sank into the plush velvet of the chair. It was soft. Very soft. You felt like you were in heaven. You took your time to observe your surroundings before the show started. Tiers upon tiers of balconies lined the walls, a few moving specks the only indication that people were still filing in. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, the crystals adorning it glinting in the fluorescent light. You were pleasantly surprised at the luxury of the place. Then again, Artful was a successful magician. "Nothing but the best for my beloved audience," he said before, and from his performances to his choice of venue, he delivered nothing but the best. As you leaned back in the chair, waiting for the show to start, you couldn't help but think about what was to come. You knew that the show would be much better in person as compared to watching everything on television, but you weren't sure what to expect.

The lively chatter from the audience around you died down to hushed murmurs as the lights dimmed. The spotlight shone across the stage as the curtains were raised. You sat up, eyes fixed on the stage. You didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't…nothing. The stage was empty. The spotlights shone down on a polished, empty wooden surface, no magician in sight. The theatre was dead silent. Then, with a puff of smoke, the theatre erupted into applause as the star of the show himself appeared at the centre of the stage. Artful's gaze raked over the theatre, his charming smile widening at the sight of the full house. "Mesdames et messieurs! Welcome to the show of a lifetime! With the flick of my wand, I can bring your wildest dreams…" He tapped his wand against the tip of his index finger. A dove materialised in a poof of smoke and perched atop his hat. "…into reality!" Your mind blanked out at the sight of him, whatever cheers you were about to let out dying in your throat. The French magician onstage donned a pressed suit, not a wrinkle in sight. His silk tie was pressed and tied with great care, and a cotton handkerchief was neatly folded and tucked away, its corners peeking out from his pocket. His hat, charcoal in colour, sat atop his head, the wide brim casting a slight shadow across his eyes. What really caught your attention, however, was his mask. You weren't sure if it was broken, for it only covered half his face. What you knew, however, was that you couldn't tear your eyes off its smooth surface. His smile, his laughter…even with all his professionalism, it was adorable to you. And as the show went on, you found yourself unable to fully focus on the tricks he performed. While you absentmindedly clapped as the audience cheered, your mind was fixed on his happy laughter at the audience's surprise, his smiles when he performed a successful trick…and his voice. His voice was what made you fall hard. His voice was smooth and had a calming lilt to it, just like a soothing balm to your wounded and deprived soul.

Even if you missed some of the sorcery he performed because you were too lost in his eyes, you couldn't care less about it. As long as you could gaze at him for just a moment longer, it was worth it. Happiness danced in his obsidian eyes as he performed for an adoring crowd.

He was happy. Smiling. He was practically having fun on stage.

And you loved how joyous he was.

All too soon, the show came to an end. The curtains fell, and the lights flicked back on as everyone slowly filed out of the theatre. The talk around you faded into white noise as you slowly walked out, still enchanted from watching your first performance in person. By then, it was already nighttime. The night sky greeted you as you exited the theatre, the cool breeze hitting your face. Even outside the theatre, the entire location was still beautiful. The theatre was surrounded by a hedge wall that wound along the perimeter of the premises, with hedge cuttings along the pavement.

You remembered reading through the theatre's directory. It did mention that there was a garden on the other end of the building, and you figured that you might as well check it out. You rarely went to the theatre anyway, if ever at all.

As you stepped into the garden, the allure of the place astounded you. There were little lamps here and there around the empty garden, illuminating the otherwise dark surroundings. Wooden benches lined the pavements, and the grass covered the soil around the pavement in a sea of green. But your eyes were drawn to the centerpiece of it all- the fountain at the heart of the small garden. It was a quaint little fountain, its base flat for visitors to sit by its edge. The lights at the bottom lit up the water and its general surroundings, and you couldn't help but slowly approach it. The stone surface was surprisingly cool against your hands, and as you sat by the edge and observed the nearby flowers, a familiar voice spoke up behind you. "Did you not enjoy my show, ma chérie?" Startled by the voice, you whipped your head around only to come face-to-face with Artful. He looked into your eyes, a hint of sorrow in his gaze. "I always do my best to delight my audience, and seeing you appear so…distracted…makes me wonder if there's anything more I could have done for you." You couldn't bring yourself to reply the magician. You only visited the garden out of curiosity. You didn't expect Artful himself to show up to talk to you. "I…uh…" Your voice died out as you took in his features. He was even more stunning up close. A surprised squeak left you as you felt a pair of gloved hands on yours. Artful took your hands in his own, his thumb absentmindedly trailing over your skin in slow movements. Your shoulders slumped slightly in dismay as you felt one warm hand leave yours. Artful reached beside him and retrieved his wand. With a flick of his wrist, a white rose materialised in his hands. Unlike all those times you've seen the same trick on television, this was the one that truly captivated you. Artful tucked the rose behind your ear, and his lips curled up ever so slightly. "Mon dieu…you look beautiful when you smile…" You blinked in surprise. You didn't even realise you were smiling. Artful let out a soft chuckle at your shock, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I suppose you do enjoy my shows, after all…I've finally gotten you to smile. I look forward to seeing you smile for me again." You blinked again. Artful was gone. You looked left, right, everywhere…but he was nowhere to be seen. With a quiet sigh, you got up, preparing to head home for the night. Your hand reached into your pocket to get your phone. Unexpectedly, your fingers also brushed against the surface of a small card. You pulled it out of your pocket, your eyes skimming over the contents. It was a phone number, neatly written in black ink. Below it was a small message. "I look forward to hearing from you, ma dame. I wish to see you smile again." At the bottom right corner of the card, you saw a small doodle of a top hat. One with a wide brim.

Maybe magic was real, after all.

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