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Count and Countess	By : IlDolceSuono Category: Hellsing > Het - Male/Female Views: 3069 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing. This is a work of fiction for which I receive no money.

Chapter List
- 1-Count and Countess
- 1
Tendrils of steam furled from a blue-printed china cup set precisely in the center of a deep mahogany desk. Before it, with her hands braided over one another in front of her face, sat Sir Hellsing. The glint from her glasses made her look like a madman, or something from a haunted house, obscuring her unwavering blue gaze as she allowed her thoughts to overwhelm her.

Next to her cup of tea was a manilla folder opened to a history report on Pip Bernadotte and his mercenaries.

Sir Hellsing glanced at the photos and information with little more than passing interest.

The Wild Geese had hardy seemed a suitable replacement for the valuable Hellsing men lost in the Valentine Brother's invasion. They were loud and uncouth; positively primeval. Had the recommendation not come from Walter himself then Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing would have dismissed them immediately. To think that the Protestant Knights had been reduced to hiring mercenaries; it was humiliating.

Of course, after the situation in Rio de Janeiro, Sir Hellsing had been forced to admit that Pip and his band of geese started to look more useful than the noisome goslings she had always, deep down, believed them to be.

Seras had reported excitedly to her master's master how Bernadotte had hijacked a helicopter after slaughtering the Brazilian officials, playing an integral part in the extermination.

Well, as integral a part as a human could possibly play on the stage of darkness.

The real hero was Alucard, as always. The Count, Hellsing's trump card, was never one to disappoint and it was in him that Integra could place her full trust. Between him and Walter (and she supposed Seras too), Hellsing had quite a team of exterminators and strategists.

Still, as Integra sipped her tea at her desk, she could not quite wrap her head around the events that were plaguing her lands, the lands she was sworn to protect along with the sanctity of the church and the nobility of her people. Her white-blonde hair was as pinstraight and immaculate as ever, as was her olive drab suit that hid all evidence of her womanly youth, but the glove that gripped the tea saucer was covering white-knuckles.

There was much on her mind these days. Too much.

Counterfeit vampires were trolling the countryside, laying waste without purpose. Iscariot was loosening the chains around Father Anderson, allowing that freak to roam wherever the Vatican saw fit, including Integra's sacred United Kingdom.

Yes, these were troubling times, especially after the comparatively quiet childhood she had been spoiled with. When she came to head of the Hellsing Organization there was little contact with Iscariot and there were no vampires so befuddling that she and Alucard would spend hours discussing their origins.

Back then things had been simpler: seek and destroy; obliterate all threats to the church and crown and send the demons back to the bowels of hell.

Cut and dry, just the way Integra preferred her affairs.

“Interesting choice of words,” Alucard said with a smirk that Integra could hear even though he was behind her, molding himself from the shadows cast by the kerosene lamp on her desk. There was no need to explain that he had been reading her mind for some time, like a bat on the wall.

“You're late.” After a decade of charades, Sir Hellsing was no longer startled when her pet vampire showed up unannounced, unwanted, and uncalled.

Alucard made a simple amused grunt.

“It was a long walk home,” he replied smoothly, his voice like warm silk, a perfectly tuned weapon to ensnare the less vigilant.

“Don't tell me you're tired, vampire,” came her counter, looking over her shoulder just enough for her frozen blue eyes to stab him with their sharpness. “Unless you have anything to report, you are dismissed,” she finished, turning back to her tea, which she inhaled before taking a sip.

Alucard chuckled and walked silently over to stand beside her desk, leaning against it in a way that made his legs look a mile long, arms folded over his chest in a garish caricature of a human. In his red coat, cravat, and hat, he rather did look like a human, but one glimpse behind his round sunglasses and the maniacal red eyes shone as salt on the wound of any git foolish enough to believe their eyes when it came to Alucard, the No-Life King.

“Dismissing me so soon, Master? Is something troubling you?” he pried, peering over the silvery rims of his glasses to search at Sir Hellsing with crimson eyes.

He could read her mind when she was this distressed, but it was always best to pretend that he couldn't. Alucard knew his place, knew that he was her loyal servant and that there was a certain line he wouldn't cross unless he was feeling particularly puckish. Besides, over the years he had come to develop a connoisseur's appreciation for his human master, an appreciation that had always come with dark, lusty undertones that his vampiric mind fed him as if to torment him eternally with what he could never have.

Integra ignored him for a moment as she sipped her tea, dabbing at her lips with the napkin Walter had delivered with her new ceylon blend.

“What do you think of the Wild Geese?” It was a question without preamble and Alucard's grin was broad enough to flash a glimmering glimpse of pearly white fangs. Ever was his master direct, just one of the many reasons he was pleased to serve her.

“They have their uses, though I am uncertain of their ability to protect my Master while I am away,” he answered dutifully, as he knew he was required to, though his eyes drifted over her trim, hidden body when she looked away to set her tea down. Sometimes he wondered if this was part of their masquerade: her looking away to give him ample opportunity to devour her form hungrily, pretending that he knew what was beneath those stiffly starched shoulder pads and dangling honors presented from the Queen.

It was like playing with fire, entertaining these thoughts about Sir Integra, the veritable virgin tower, but Alucard had ever been as much of a masochist as he was a sadist.

Integra merely “hmm”ed at his answer and sighed, leaning back in her chair for a fleeting moment of reprieve, closing her eyes as she shut the file on the Wild Geese.

“And what of their leader, Bernadotte?” Integra asked, her tone even. She slid her eyes open and reached for the top right drawer of her desk to pull out a single cigar from a box with a griffon on it, her prized Hendi Winzermans. She clipped the end and lit it, all while decidedly avoiding Alucard's gaze. It wasn't until she leaned back in her chair and arranged her ashtray within arm's reach that she fixed her eyes upon him and studied, unwavering, expecting the correct answer.

There were a great many reasons for Integra to ask about Alucard's opinion of Pip, none of which were lost on the No-Life King. Though he kept out of her mind, the vampire did not need to quest far into it to tell what her motives were. He let out an inappropriate chuckle that bubbled quickly into bellowing laughter, his head thrown back in a cruel imitation of human amusement while his hair flew wildly.

Integra's brows narrowed but she remained determinedly under control of her emotions.

“Why do you laugh?” she asked testily.

Alucard's laugh decrescendoed into nothingness as he brought his head level again, with only the slight shudder of his shoulder to suggest that he was still making merry of her.

“Answer me!” she demanded, her pension for bouts of anger getting the best of her British resolve to maintain decorum.

“Master, I dare say you're jealous,” he commented slyly, tucking his sunglasses into the inside pocket of his coat and the leaning closer on her desk, his hand right next to her tea cup. The juxtaposition of his occult adorned gloves next to her pristine blue-printed china was not lost on Sir Integra, who was constantly reminding herself that he was a monster, just to chase the less chaste thoughts away.

Integra balked.

“I don't know what you mean, vampire, nor what this has to do with your opinion of Captain Bernadotte.”

Alucard simply chuckled and maintained his closeness, leering down at his master as he leaned over her tea, ashtray, manilla folders, and lacquered desk top.

When she was younger, a display like this would have been a struggle for power, just one of Alucard's many teaching devices to craft the young Integra into the leader she was today. Lately, however, these tense moments of closeness were something else and Alucard simply delighted in the chase.

“Master, don't play coy. You wonder if I am bothered by the human's interest in the police girl, correct?” he purred, smirking as he watched the slightest hint of a blush creep into his Master's cheeks.

Integra let out a stunned breath, her blue eyes blazing. She sucked on her cigar so deeply that the ember lit the pale recesses of Alucard's hovering face.

Blowing out the smoke, Sir Hellsing tapped the small cigar on the side of her tray to rid the ash.

“Answer the question, Alucard, that's an order.”

The tall, pale vampire straightened his posture.

“Captain Bernadotte has proven himself convenient. There is no need to fret over him or the Wild Geese, Master.”

It was a professional answer, just the kind that Integra wanted to hear, or at least the kind she wanted Alucard to think she expected.

She nodded and blew another gale of sweet-smelling smoke, flicking ashes into the tray as she leaned forward.

“I ask because I have noticed his affects on the police girl,” she explained without question, each word carefully selected from her arsenal of dry, impersonal vocabulary to keep wandering minds at bay.

She punctuated her calm by looking up to him, daring him to contradict her as she smashed the cigar into the ashtray, a thin line of grey smoke rising from the dead butt.

“The police girl denies his advances,” Alucard assured in a low, lusty voice with his red eyes pinned on his beautiful, strong master.

Verbal checkmate.

Integra finished her tea at her leisure, only the tink of fine china sounding as she returned the cup to the matching saucer.

“Her performance is distracted because of him,” she continued, postulating more than stating, allowing Alucard the benefit of speaking her thoughts aloud before he was tempted to rip through her mind like a thief in a library.

Alucard grinned and removed himself from her desk, standing instead beside her, an ivory tower bathed in scarlet.

“The police girl will serve her purpose and obey me when I command it without fail. My orders are but extensions of your orders after all, my master,” he said, dropping to one knee before her and bowing his head low, the wild, silken mane of his onyx hair shadowing the penetrating gaze he stole at her calves, the shape of which he could see pressing at the hideous garments she wore.

Looking down at her servant, Integra toed her chair around to face him, once again braiding her fingers before her with her elbows on the arm rests of her chair.

“What is this farce, master? Why do you not tell your humble servant what troubles you?” Alucard asked to the floor, still kneeling though there was a smirk in his tone that foretold of mischievous thoughts.

Integra cleared her throat, looking down at her weapon; the monster that Walter had reminded her on more than one occasion was 'the genuine article.' If her father or grandfather could see them now, their final heiress chummy with the coveted Hellsing vampire, they would surely be disappointed in her resolve.

“I have already told you what bothers me. In addition, my concerns rise with Enrico Maxwell gaining hubris and the counterfeit vampires laying waste to innocent villagers. Times are changing, Alucard. Sometimes it is more comforting to worry about things at home than to speculate about an uncertain future over a landscape of change that I cannot map,” she replied, speaking to the top of his head, the only part of him she could see aside from the curve of his back.

Alucard lifted his head, his eyes imploring with Integra's.

“There is no part of your future that is unknown, Integra,” he stated calmly, displaying the poise and patience that only a creature of 500 years could emanate. The weight of his stare was something Integra had long ago stopped being uncomfortable under but her body tricked her as she felt her chest tighten, listening to her servant.

“What do you mean?” she asked curiously, a slight lift of her eyebrow suggesting genuine interest.

“You know exactly what I mean. You shall captain Hellsing into countless victories with me, loyally by your side. There is no alternative path, Integra. I am the rifle, you are the marksman, an undisputed team the likes of which makes even the Vatican tremble,” he concluded with a grin, looking up at her with dark eyes.

This was the square on the chess board that Alucard had sat on for years; as far as his advance could go. Closeness with his master was a torrid consideration, but each year chipped her resolve a bit more. Perhaps by the time she was old and infirm she would realize the sordid obsession her servant held for her as he maintained his youth and vigor while she wasted away...

The thought made the cold medical blood in Alucard's veins scream with rage. Integra would die. He would watch it as he had watched her father and grandfather, both fine men in their rights, but Integra was his true master, the only one he had bonded so tightly to.

“Yes, thank you, Alucard. You may leave now.” Integra turned her chair back to face the deskfront and opened the manilla envelope again, staring at the photo of Pip Bernadotte, who grinned cheekily back up at her around his omnipresent cigarette, a foul word tumbling from his lips as this photograph was taken, no doubt.

Alucard stood but did not leave.

Instead he watched the way his master looked at the picture of the captain of the Wild Geese and gripped the high sides of her chair-back while leaning down close, his cold breath tickling the hairs on the back of her warm neck.

“Do you find him handsome, master?” he asked, purring the final 'r' of master so that the rumble of his lips was something like the texture of velvet.

Integra blushed darker than she would have liked to admit and looked over her shoulder, seeing her monster's pale face mere inches from her own.

“How dare you!” she barked, another bout of anger rising as he pushed all the buttons he had carefully discovered over the decade of servitude.

Alucard's grin became maniacal, and he matched her scowl with a wild, feral face, reminding her that he had been crafted for the very darkest pit of hell.

“Tell me, Integra! Tell me you find him handsome!” he shrieked, insane. His eyes were too open, his face too stripped of guile and the shadows around him started to melt into his hair, which lifted and became haunting – a garish face of evil on what had been such a handsome man mere moments ago.

“THAT IS ENOUGH! Do not question me, monster! I am your master; REMEMBER YOUR PLACE!” she roared, standing from her chair to face him, each eye a blue dart that pinned him to her side with every commanding word.

“YES!” he roared, his face in hers, the metallic tang still on his cold, dead breath as his eyes opened wide and crazed. “You have always ignited my passions, Integra! How could you worry over a pet like the police girl when you have been my countess for a decade?!”

Somewhere, buried beneath a lifetime of training and noble upbringing, Integra was moved by the words of her monster, cried in her face by a towering, lanky figure that so resembled the corpse she had awoken all those years ago.

And, somewhere buried even deeper, was a sigh of relief that she refused to give.

Alucard was her monster.

Integra adjusted her glasses and straightened her military jacket as Alucard composed himself once more, standing to his full height, putting Integra's head at scarcely his shoulder.

“It appears I have misjudged you, Count,” she replied. It was a subtle change in the way she addressed him but subtle was ever the way he had courted her. Responding in kind to being called his countess was always a good sign; one given to him so infrequently that he had to bleed the happiness for all it was worth. Ever had she been frugal with her tenderness.

And for good reason. As much as Alucard adored her strength, he was still a vampire and needed to be given clear boundaries.

Integra sat again and pressed her white gloves into her temples for a moment, contemplating what the next move would be. This strange game the two of them had played was becoming old; the human was growing impatient of the uncertainty and the temptation. The vampire, however, had all the time in the world and was forced to hide a snigger as he dipped a toe into Integra's mind, reading the swirling frenzy of thoughts without her notice.

Your vampire is loyal... he is a vile monster worthy only to serve and be used like the weapon he prides himself on being... he is your trusted confidante... Alucard cannot know what it means to...

“What is means to what, master - to love? Surely you remember that I was human once.”

Integra's cheeks bloomed with angry color as he made no attempts to conceal that he had stolen her privacy from her.

“Alucard, get out of my head, that is a direct order,” she commanded; a clever way to deflect the attention from her to his disobedience.

“Of course, Countess. How rude of me,” he apologized with insincerity as he bowed low, his hair dangling into her lap as he licked his lips, eagerly watching the crease of her thighs as her legs folded over each other.

“I thought I ordered you to leave,” she reminded, waving her hand dismissively, an act that effectively ran her fingers through the curtain of raven hair.

“Your thoughts begged otherwise.”

“Alucard, I am growing tired of your insubordination!” she warned waspishly.

He simply laughed and placed his hand over hers as she reached for the teacup and saucer, fasting her hand to the desk with his large, white glove.

“Master, you torment me and yourself,” he said, bending to keep their faces close, his lips hovering over her ear where he could hear her pulse quickening, sending that sweet, virgin blood to her untainted flower.

“Unhand me!” she demanded, trying to wrest her hand from underneath him, but Alucard swallowed her hand with his, immobile.

He chuckled.

“In order for me to obey a command you have to mean it, Integra. Your body and your mind are conflicted right now, I can sense it...” he took a deep breath and a sinister, throaty laugh came forth and slid straight into her ear, tickling the hairs around it to rise gooseflesh over her entire body, “and smell it...”

Integra growled and reached for her top drawer where she kept a Smith and Weston but as she pulled on the golden knob she found that the desk was held tightly shut by a tendril of shadow that bore a winking eye.

“Alucard!” she called, her words dripping with acid and just the slightest hint of panic. He was seeing through her, advancing himself one square further than their game had ever gotten, using the king's patience to trap the flighty queen.

The vampire curled his fingers around hers and drew her hand to his lips, kissing it in a way that men of Integra's era often no longer bothered with. With them, the countless pathetic suitors, kissing the hand had become a piggish and boorish gesture, one that was supposed to reek of chivalry but had turned into somewhat of a sensual act, or one that came with certain expectations.

Through the white glove, Alucard's lips could feel the thrum of her excited pulse and he grinned, revealing a long white fang...

With just the slightest movement, the fang had torn through the material of Integra's glove, revealing the olive skin underneath, a loud ripping noise stretching through the large room.

Integra tried to wrench her hand away but Alucard held tightly around her wrist, tugging the shredded glove off by impishly biting the middle finger and pulling. He lowered to his knees once more before her and then pressed his lips against the pounding heartbeat he could feel in the vein on the back of her head.

“Master,” he purred in her mind, insinuating himself into her thoughts without tearing any out.

Sir Hellsing stopped fighting like some uncivilized wretch and calmed, reading into Alucard's strategy easily. Her struggle would only arouse him, she knew, as would the spike in her pulse tempt him beyond what she had ever pushed him.

Her lids were heavy, her hand warm enough to start inflaming the cold flesh beneath the occult glove of her pet monster. He was like a petulant child with a new toy, refusing to be denied the chance to play with his food before devouring it... He could have his way with her right there, according to what her body was telling her...

“Master, you misjudge me again. I am your Count and ever the defender of your chastity. None but me have the right to be this close to you, none are worthy of serving you as I have!”

He then let go of her hand and reached forward to brush over the heavy sheet of platinum blonde hair that draped over her shoulder. Did he dare move into checkmate and risk running her off: taking one step forward and two steps back? This dance of theirs could go on forever until she was ready to admit to herself the as-of-yet unspoken longing she held for him, and he had all the time in the world, but she did not.

“To what purpose do you mean that?” she asked irritably.

Alucard looked at her for a moment, their eyes boiling with unresolved passion and an understanding of what could and could not be.

“You humans are so confusing,” he sighed, his words laced with a puckish grin.

Then, he cupped his master's face and complied with the order she was too afraid to give by pulling her face to his and capturing her lips with his. The initial protest of his Countess was thwarted as he wrapped his arms around her and drug her to the edge of her chair, rigidly demanding that she be closer, that she become one with him. With their chests mashed together she could not push against him, though it didn't stop her from beating against his shoulders and trying to pull away.

“Stop your struggling, Integra,” his voice mocked from within her own head, and he felt her blanch in his arms. “You've been silently asking for this for years now and your humble servant wishes only to fulfil your every command...”

If her grandfather could see her now, he would disown her. Thoughts of her father's shame plagued her, as if he were really staring at the scene from the massive portrait of him hanging on the wall. If Her Majesty caught even a glimpse of this, Integra would be released from her charge and replaced by someone else, someone that Alucard could, in time, corrupt instead of woo. If Walter or Seras interrupted, there would be an uncomfortable home atmosphere while they all silently judged Integra from behind silent faces filled with words that would never spill out.

Her respect, lost.

Her dignity, shattered.

Her virginity, questioned.

But none of those people were there, in that dark room with the kerosene lamp burning brightly from the side of the desk where the manilla envelope boasting Captain Bernadotte and the rest of the Wild Geese went forgotten.

Alucard and Integra were alone.

Once that final brick was removed, Integra groaned and wrapped her arms around her vampire's neck, opening her mouth slightly to his questing tongue. She had seen that tongue before but never felt it, unless she rewarded him with a suckle from her fingertip. Inside her mouth it was cold and foreign but was soon warmed as he enticed her to lap against him, teaching her as he had taught her so many other things; with experience.

For as passionate as the pair could be, their kiss was slow and refined with occasional moments that were so erotic Integra could hardly believe them. Her nerves stood on end as his fangs scraped over her fleshy tongue; her arms immediately tightening around his neck to hold them closer.

Suddenly her garments felt hot and stifling, like unwanted reminders of the title she was betraying by allowing Alucard to hold her and stroke her hair and make her blood sing in her veins.

The collar of her jacket was tugged roughly to one side and Alucard fitted his massive hand around her neck, cradling her head like a baby's, reminding them both of the strange nature of their relationship. He had been her savior, ward, servant, and confidante. Now, he was something more; a friend almost, and an admirer that had somehow wormed his way into her heart. Whether he had used dirty tricks or not, Integra was both electrified and uneasy about the sudden transformation.

Things would never be the same.

He would ever remember this moment, even if it never happened again, and Integra could not fathom denying herself the pleasure of his touch.

“You flatter me, Integra. It would be my pleasure to make you tremble like this for the rest of eternity...”

Integra suddenly pulled away, her lips shining as she caught her breath. Her breasts were full and aching against the rough blouse she wore underneath, the nipples painfully erect as if he had pinched them, though his hands had remained faithfully around her back and in her hair.

“Something wrong, master?” he asked absently, running his finger along the bit of her neck that he could see, tracing an unseen artery to track his lady's excitement. Her smell was at its peak; a mingling of musk and sweat that filled his head with thoughts he would definitely have to save for another time.

The king moved one space at a time.

Sir Integra opened her mouth to say something but then shut it and licked her lips unconsciously, tasting the last remnants of her sin.

“Alucard, that must never happen again,” she said heavily, straightening her blue cravat and her jacket, dusting it off as if she'd just taken a convertible ride down a dusty road.

The No-Life King merely laughed.

“Only if you command it again, my master,” he replied, his eyes dark and intense upon her, knowing full well that this was only the beginning.
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Count and Countess