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A Twisted Victory	By : GoldAngelFish Category: Hellsing > General Views: 2612 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Twisted Victory
- 1
~Hellsing
and all related characters belong to Kohta Hirano. Thou shalt not sue the
muse.~

(An odd patch from the muse. Someone mentioned they
preferred Integra dominant, and I began to think: there are other ways to win
besides holding the leash of your opponent.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blood.

The blood is the
life.

The blood was� gone.

The
gleaming crimson eyes were absolutely wild as the creature slid through the
shadows. Awareness of all that was occurring in the human prison was enraging
it, and the scent of blood had awakened the lust it had held in check, with the
assistance of powerful human spells.

Now it was loose.

Something,
somehow had cut it free, set it loose to run, to roam, and it was, to be
honest, frightened. This was not meant to happen, had not been in the cards,
stars...whatever you cared to gaze up at. Something strange was going on, but
without the spells binding the creature to its master, there was only one way
to discover what that was.

The
prison cell was damp, and the cold at the proper level to be described as bone
chilling. The very air tasted of centuries-old despair, and submission was bred
into the dull grey stone. A military cot was tucked into the furthest corner
from the door, which naturally led to cobwebs and a dark atmosphere. One
rickety table stood in the center of the room, legs bolted to the floor. The
single spindly chair appeared lost at the angle it sat, away from the table, as
alienated as the room's sole occupant. She sat on the cot, platinum hair
falling in heavy waves into her lap, ice-blue eyes unfocused as she gazed at
the floor. A fresh bandage marked her throat, and her honey-colored skin was a
shade paler than healthy for her. The woman was slender, a bit slimmer now than
when she had first descended the spiraling stone staircase to this cell, and
clothed in a loosely fitting white shift. Uncomfortable in this strange dress,
she sat with her knees close together, feet planted firmly on the icy floor,
despite the gooseflesh crawling up her legs from contact with the chill stone.
Her face was completely calm, and she sat with bound hands lying motionless in
her lap. Darkness flooded the room abruptly, with none of the subtlety she'd come
to expect from the monster. Sir Integra Fairbrooke Wingates Hellsing looked up
calmly, her pale blue eyes resigned. Shadows swarmed over her, and coalesced in
a corner, budding crimson eyes and gleaming fangs.

"You're late, Alucard,"
she said quietly, sitting up perfectly straight. She looked virginal, every
inch the Royal Maiden as she shifted her position, turning to face the monster
that panted heavily in a corner. He emerged, clothed only in the constricting
leather she remembered first seeing him in, crimson eyes glowing beneath the
fluid, inky hair.

"Am
I, Integra?" He smiled viciously, fangs glowing painfully white in the dim
room. She noticed the lack of her title, and relaxed almost imperceptibly. {So
that part went all right, then.}

The vampire's
head lifted as he saw the shifts in muscle, and his predatory gaze narrowed.
"So calm, lady? You realized, of course, that I am no longer bound to your
service."

Integra
nodded once, the image of calm. "Yes, I do."

"You
realize what this will mean for you?"

"You're
going to take your revenge, as I always knew you would," she said quietly,
watching him with those sky-blue eyes. It was a moment of complete
understanding between them, perfect clarity, even as he slunk closer.

"You
smell of man," he hissed, moving with the sudden, serpentine grace that
indicated his bloodlust was peaking.

"If
you do not kill me, I am to wed. It is the price for my freedom from
incarceration."

"Freedom,"
he spat, elongated tongue tasting the air as if the very word was sour.
"From this stone prison, and into a bond of legal and moral ties you will
not break."

"You
always believed I would succumb to you, didn't you Alucard? Are you sorry now,
to see how wrong you were? I would rather take an honorable marriage than become
the slave of a monster." The vampire hissed at her words, and slithered
closer, all light dimming from the room, replaced with a vibrant red glow that
painted her hair bloody.

"Sorry?
You still believe there is some human left in me, lady. I have never been sorry
to see your pain," he murmured, gleaming eyes fastened on the pristine
bandage at her throat.

"Yes,
I know. Perhaps it was a slip of the tongue, for part of me
does...regret...this ending."

"You
are honest with me, lady."

"I
have ever been so, Count."

He smiled
cruelly, shifting closer to her, the coldness of his very presence causing more
gooseflesh on her bare calves. "Have you been, truly, lady? If so, you
would have taken my repeated offers, long before I decided irrevocably on vengeance.
Now, there is nothing to be done for it." Perhaps long ago, there would
have been a note of regret in his even tone, but those years passed quickly.
Now, he speaks with calm decision, just as she does. The madness is gone from
his gaze, and she looks back at him with utter peace. They know what is to be
done, and how the story says it should go.

Tendrils
of darkness encircled Integra's body, holding her firmly in place as the
vampire's eyes pierced hers. His hands were iron, binding her wrists to her
sides, shifting her body as she was laid on a shifting, yet solid surface. It
was softer than the military cot she had been supplied with, and the maiden
could only assume that the monster was making full use of his newly freed
abilities. He shifted into focus, drawing a hand down her body, the flimsy
cotton of the shift parting like water before his hand. It gaped, revealing
pale honey skin, a few scars creating tantalizing shifts in texture. The
predator's gaze never left that of his prey, even as his own heavy red leather
slithered away from his body, leaving his ivory-white body bare. Her glasses
were gone, flung away into that same place as the shift suddenly went with a
yank of his hand. She was bare to him, and he to her.

Alucard
chuckled in the depths of his throat, as he shifted his body, gliding alongside
his former master's warm skin. A final desecration of the forbidden had always
been part of his revenge, and her willingness had been secured long in advance.
A few exotic dreams during adolescence, along with glimpses of him both feeding
in a sensual manner and his own attentions had ensured he was the object of her
physical lust. She had always been an object of his. Luscious curves, concealed
beneath rough bottle-green wool, with the smooth, velvety skin, high lit by
platinum hair and those piercing blue eyes...ah yes. This was going to be a
considerable pleasure. He took time, smoothing his cool hands over the planes
of her body, watching her eyelids flutter closed, her thighs part to allow his
touch, taut muscle arching into the contact. He laughed, mentally, and bent his
head to taste her skin, teasing himself by licking her collarbone beneath the
bandage. As the maiden shifted, her hands gliding over his broad shoulders, he
mouthed the skin, tasting hints of Hellsing blood, her sweat and the flavor,
which was uniquely Integra. Sweat began to break out on her skin, releasing a
spicy odor, which he inhaled deeply, loving the taste, the knowledge that her
body was responding to his touch. Indeed, she shifted beneath his hands, her
head tilting to the side, allowing him better access to her skin. Her small
human hands ran over his shoulders, feeling planes of muscle, the protruding
bone. Tendrils of his liquid hair enmeshed her fingers, tugging at her grip and
pulling her firmly in place. Admittedly, he was unsure how much of her young
dreams he should give her. Sentimentality drew him towards a romantic finish,
while the urge to take violent revenge now was burning within him. The
vampire is, however, a patient creature, and if he had waited over a century
for this, then let it be a memory worth a millennia.

For
seeming hours, the gentle strokes went on, as the creature memorized every
spare inch of the lady�s body. The scars that gave her form such interesting
characteristics were each traced, gazed at, mouthed, and nibbled, fixing their
position and shape firmly in his mind. Shoulders were traced, gripped and
bitten with light brushes of fang, and arms pulled out, their strength tested
as his long fingers traced the muscle underneath the paler skin. Hair was drawn
through his opened fingers, feeling the texture as one would buy silk. He
memorized the structure of her face, knowing this memory would sustain him
through the ages. Their eyes remained locked for long, long moments, stretching
into eternity, as his hands slithered about her body, remembering the heavy
softness of her breasts, the slim curves and inward dip of her waist, rounding
out to gentle slopes of hip, lengthening to long, strongly muscled legs. The
join of her legs, the very area that wafted the innocent scents of virgin
arousal, was left strictly alone, save for one deep whiff, which spurred his
sudden lust. It had ceased to be merely bloodlust at this point, ceased to be
merely lust. Something had twisted and combined, tying the monster and maiden
together as he took her into his mind to serve as image for centuries. Oddly,
he left her mouth alone. Save tracing the contours of her lips with a bare
finger, for the gloves had been marks of bondage, he did not kiss her, nor
taste her parted lips as he tasted the rest of her. Even a tear of passion had
not escaped his tongue, breaking salty and bittersweet on his mouth.

When his
mouth closed on the peak of her breast, he felt the shudder pass through her
body, noting the sudden changes in skin temperature, the shift of scent from
her. Alucard smiled, inky hair falling over his shoulders, brushing her heated
skin with cool traces as he suckled lightly. Integra moaned softly, her hands
twining in his hair, pulling lightly as her back arched, offering him more. He
took her offer, and all that she had to give. When his mouth descended between
her legs, the maiden felt her resistance give way as tissue paper to knife. Her
thighs parted for his probing tongue, hips tilted into the tentative invasion
of a strong finger, breath came in light pants for the circular, rhythmic
movement of both tongue and finger. Her cry came when he began to lick her in
long, even strokes, tongue finding out every fold and niche. The sudden feeling
of penetration, the invasion of his tongue brought a sharp movement and another
cry, her fingers yanking painfully on his hair. The pain brought a laugh to his
throat, which drew another cry from her. Nails dug into the back of her knees,
drawing pricks of blood, the scent of which pushed at his control, and ended
the game. Alucard rose abruptly to his knees, hands parting her thighs with a
decisive motion, creaking her human tendons painfully. She gasped, and then allowed
her eyes to close when his hands slid up to cup a breast, thumb stroking over
the peak with feather-light touches, and to her throat, a sharp nail parting
the cotton wrappings. Cool slickness, and the feeling of air on her wound, and
she was completely bare to him. He lowered his head to hers, their foreheads
pressing. For a moment, the world was still, and their eyes met evenly. Then,
he shifted his hips with a sharp, stabbing motion.

Pain
flooded her vision red, and the feel of her flesh parting to give way to him
made the monster groan quietly. Tendrils, she found, bound her hands,, her
thighs held flat against the bed. It was to take his pleasure, as he chose,
that she had been so carefully aroused. Her enjoyment was secondary, but still
a faint consideration, judging from the careful movement of his hips, the easy
rocking rhythm which he struck that encouraged answering movement from her. Integra
responded in kind, pressing her hips against his as best she could, savoring
the feel of being filled, ravaged, completed�of sorts. As for the creature, he reveled
in the feel of her flesh gripping him, blood lubricating further what was
already so very moist. Every thrust of his hips made the scent of her blood
sweeter, and she was slippery with sweat. Tendrils of his darkness ran over her
body, stroking beneath her breasts, teasing between her thighs, gliding over
her parted lips. One tendril lifted her hair away from her throat, revealing
the lurid scar, gleaming red against the honey skin. His fangs abruptly
lengthened, causing tears in his own skin, and he groaned pleasurably at the
pain. Hips gliding against hers as he pushed himself deeper into her yielding
flesh, Alucard pressed his lips to the wound. There was a breath, a heartbeat,
of pure, all-inclusive pleasure.

His fangs
pierced, with a fiery agony, sinking into the so recently ravaged flesh with a
sharp bite. Integra cried out, her body jerking as he pressed harder against
her, mouth locked on her throat. The pace increased with his first taste of her
blood, undead hips slamming into hers, the pleasure mixing with the shrieking
pain, each blending into each other. Tendrils loosened, and her arms glided
about his shoulders, legs sliding up to clasp his thrusting hips. His arms were
hard about her, holding her throat to his mouth, one hand grasping the opposite
hip, his arms completely encircling. Alucard was lost in sensation, in flavor,
in fulfilled desire. Her moans began again as her body adjusted to the pain,
and as everything filtered pale with the draining of her blood, her muscles
began to tremble. The monster smiled against her throat, grinding his fangs
harder into the flesh. Death during sex lead to an orgasm that could, rightly
so, be considered �the little death� it was referred to so often. It was this
last which he offered his former master, this last bit of respect. The creature
drained the former maiden, drained her to the last drop of her blood as his
body thrust harder against hers, the slipperiness of her sweat making motion
easy. Drunk with the flavor, he pulled his mouth from the empty wound, eyes
locking with hers. She was dying now, life leaving her frame even as she
shuddered in the throes of insurmountable pleasure, and she was doing so with a
smile. He felt the tightening of her body, and growled aloud, nails piercing
her flesh, but drawing no blood as he pounded into her nearly lifeless body.
They climaxed together, one last moment of partnership, before he subsided,
shuddering from the utter and complete fulfillment. There would be no offering
of blood to sustain her, no creation of progeny. He had his child, the police
girl, and would use her as such. This�had been so very much more.

As the
monster smoothed the tumbled platinum locks, and his red leather slid back into
place over his body, he felt completely at peace. �You died well, lady,� he
murmured, leaning over to press a light kiss on the still lips, stroking her
forehead with his bare hand. Then�he looked at his own hands with utter
disbelief.

The
gloves�

The
gloves were back in place, the sigil burning brightly before fading back into
black lines. The feeling of bondage�stars above�it was flooding through him
once more. What was this? What was this?!? He roared in fury, slamming
viciously into the stone walls, ignoring the ominous cracking of granite.
Hellsing blood? He had just taken the last! There was nothing else! No one who
could poss-

Realization
dawned, coldly, and his eyes flared a bestial red. That single cousin, living
in northern Scotland, hadn�t lost the child, as Integra had told him. The young
girl, born eight years ago, had not died in the early days of infancy, which
both Integra and Walter had discussed with such expressions of grave concern
and faint sorrow he had believed them completely. The monster roared, as the
chains of servitude fell back on him, and he turned in a fury, ready to rend
the body of his former master into unrecognizable bits. His gaze fell on her
face, and just as suddenly, his anger cooled, and his laughter, bitter though
it was, echoed through the room. Sir Integra Fairbrooke Wingates Hellsing had
died with a look of utter triumph, peace on her features as she had enticed her
monster to take her maidenhead, eliminating the possibility of undead existence,
and had calmly permitted him to drain her life away. She had passed from this
empty life onto the next with a little smirk of knowing, for she had, indeed,
triumphed over the monster.
- 1
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A Twisted Victory