Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Salvation is Yours if You'll Take it	By : ladysanzennine Category: Hellsing > General Views: 5535 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing or make any money off of it.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-Chapter 3
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2

.

.

.

Seras lives in the proud tilt of her master’s head. In his disdainful sneer at almost everything around him.

And when that sneer is turned on her, she trembles, on her knees under cover of his shadow, his tall form looming dark before her.

Coward, he calls her.

She wraps her arms around herself and looks down at the floor. His presence is suffocating, and she feels as though her heart should be pounding so hard that she would fear it leaping from her chest. But the night is silent between his words and she waits at his feet for his commands.

When he tells her to follow she hears a glimmer of fondness in his voice. It’s in the way his tone softens, barely noticeable, and she knows that he is still pleased with her company.

She leaps to her feet and trails behind him obediently. And she tries to ignore the forbidden thoughts that lurk in the corners of her mind. They are formless and foreign, but she knows that when he looks at her with that burning gaze, when he orders her to drink, to kill, the muscles between her legs clench, she feels breathless, and her vision clouds dark red.

His voice is black velvet to her sensitive ears and he’s taken to materializing behind her, to reaching out a gloved hand and grasping a lock of her hair, and with that quiet steel undertone that’s ever present, he says, Police girl… and more often than not she is startled out of her wits. She screams and instinctively strikes out against the intruder to her senses. Her elbow finds purchase against her master’s chest, and she feels his vicious glee as he allows his body to cave beneath the blow. His aura can’t be seen, but she can feel it shift about him, gliding over them both as he savors the sharp pain and the warm sensation of his blood inching forward, across his clothes, trickling from his wound.

Without effort, he grasps her arm and flings her down and away from him, like a child brushing an ant from its leg. Seras lands hard on the side of her body and scrambles upright, wincing. She looks up and sees him moving towards her, slowly, steadily, one foot and then the other. He likes to stalk her this way, and Seras reflects that when they’re alone, she seems to spend most of her time at his feet.

He never touches her, though she yearns for it. And in moments of sheer insanity, she contemplates leaning towards him when he kneels over her body, pressing her backwards into the cold marble floors of the hallway, his hands on either side of her face. Once, dazed, she had lifted her hand towards his face, gripped by a desperation to touch him and know what lay beyond his mad eyes and feral grin. But he had reached out and razed her with the force of his mind, his aura, and she had collapsed and convulsed against the floor, losing all sensation of the red fabric of his duster and cravat whispering softly against her neck, her arms, her legs. She had screamed in agony under the force of his censure, her mind crying Master! And then he had disappeared, leaving her shaking on the ground to pick herself up just as a guard came to investigate.

Ms. Victoria, are you alright?

Oh, yes, she’d laughed, I just tripped. I’m so clumsy sometimes!

And then she’d made her way slowly to her room for the dawn, wondering absently at the slick feeling of her underwear sliding against her lower lips with every step.

.

.

.

But sometimes he strokes her hair softly as he instructs her on how to reach out her vampiric senses and gauge her surroundings. He teaches her how to taste the air and smell the fear of mortal beings for miles around. He corrects her on the use of Harkonnen, he touches the Casull to her thigh, shifting her a centimeter here, an inch there, and the cold touch of the metal makes her shiver.

In the privacy of her chambers, as she cleans her cannon with the rocking motion of a rag, she can’t help but think of her weapon as a symbol of her master. It gave her strength, made her deadly. It took lives without compunction, hard and cold beneath her fingers.

Closing her eyes, she leans her cannon against the wall and allows her hand to trail down between her legs. She remembers the temptation of his large form, so close behind her small body, but always beyond his permission to reach. To her, he is enormous, not just in body, but in spirit, in evil, in malice. The force of his will feels like a thousand - a million - bloodied souls and she licks her lips thinking about how she wants to see what he hides beneath all those clothes. She wants him to consume her, to drain her, to envelop her completely so that she is lost within the tide of his being.

But as she grinds herself against her gun, her mind filled with images of blood and terror and a glowing pentagram on white gloves, she knows that more than that, she wants life, she wants love, and she will settle for nothing less.

The cannon is unyielding between her legs, and she knows that if she were human, the pressure of cold steel against the inseam of her skirt, biting into her tender clit, would make her cry out in pain, in violation. She would whimper and she would cringe and she would certainly not feel the heat travel so slowly, so sweetly, up her abdomen to her flushed face, as she presses herself harder against the gun.

But she is a vampire now, a Draculina. She is ice and she is steel, so she closes her eyes and dreams of red cloth and black hair and white gloves that she so desperately wants wrapped around her throat. She leans her forehead against the barrel of her gun and grits her teeth, submitting to the sweet agony of this self-inflicted torture.

She comes with a stifled moan, arching against the shaft of her cannon, Master a whisper on her lips.

Unseen, on the wall behind her, a pair of blood-red eyes blink closed and vanish without a trace.

.

.

.

Seras doesn’t know what her master sees in her, but she’s happy to accept the bits of affection he shows. She knows that he cares for her, and that is enough, for now.

But she sees the way that her master defers to Sir Integra, the way he looks at her with a barely restrained hunger. She sees his devotion, his respect, and she craves his approval with every fiber of her being.

Seras knows that her master cherishes this strange, unbreakable woman. He’s told her himself, Integra’s spirit, her will, her fire, they draw him like moth to flame. Integra is everything that Alucard wishes he could have been. Her faith and her humanity, she would never discard. She does not succumb to despair. She is so very alive, each and every moment, and for that, Seras thinks that Alucard must love her.

She prays that he never finds out, but as day turns to dusk, sometimes she feels the edges of his quiet despair on her psyche. Thick, inky tendrils reach out and threaten to ensnare her as her master dreams of forgotten lands, forgotten lives, forgotten loves. Sorrow cuts deep, and she is always left shaking and cold in her solitary coffin.

Seras is sure that if her master knew that she knew, he would kill her and never look back.

So for now she contents herself with learning to live. She watches the master of her master, the proud tilt of her head, the firm line of her lips, the cold determination in her brilliant blue eyes. Seras will never be Sir Integra, but she will watch and she will learn, and she will live from moment to moment, between the orders that Integra issues, between the mocking words of her master, between her legs where she burns with a deep, dark hunger that’s never quite satisfied by the familiar exploration of her fingers.

For now Seras contents herself with stolen glances when he isn’t looking.

But she knows that one day she will live in the moment when her master will smile at her as an equal and she will grasp his hand as a queen of the night.

.

.

.

This ficlet is evolving as I go. But it looks like it’s mostly going to follow the staggering amounts of unresolved sexual tension that I like to imagine Alucard, Integra, and Seras all feel.

Up next….Integra dreams…and we’re going to get dirtier. You know you can’t wait. And you know that you want to leave me a note telling me how much you can’t wait. ;)

-Lyra
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Salvation is Yours if You'll Take it