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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
- 2
- 3
Chapter 3

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Integra knows that she can never give in, so she does a thousand and one things to reinforce her position. For God, and queen, and country – for the honor of the great Hellsing name - she steels herself and grits her teeth. She plays her role, oh so very dutifully.

Integra is, at the very least, content with her life, as she stares out of her office windows overlooking the training grounds below, where her soldiers are performing their daily drills. She watches as one of her officers soundly beats a new recruit, knocking the young man’s legs out from underneath him. His backside hits the ground and he curls his body slightly in pain. She nods to herself in approval.

She is rich and she is powerful, but there isn’t a day that passes by where she wonders what it would feel like to throw honor and obligation to the wind and let her passions take her.

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Once she dreamt that she was entertaining Sir Penwood with a game of billiards. Politicking and whatnot.

The older gentleman isn’t half bad with a cue, and as the sun begins its slow decent outside of the west-facing window, they chat as they always do about armaments and military strategy. Sir Penwood isn’t nearly as useless as he seems to think he is, and Integra remembers him fondly from her childhood.

She is dressed in her usual suit, but the jacket has been discarded over a chair in favor of the range of motion she needs to line up each shot perfectly.

She’s winning, of course. After all, it is her dream.

As she bends over the table, she can feel Penwood’s eyes lingering on the flat plane of her back and the curves of her hips, hidden though they are in her masculine trousers. When she pulls her right arm back, her well-toned tricep is taut against the white fabric of her sleeve. She imagines that he is imagining the lines of her shoulders, the path down her ribs, the firm skin over her abdominals – all things he will never see.

She sinks the 8-ball with authority and slowly straightens herself, turning her head to the side to look at her opponent, one eyebrow slightly cocked.

Well? Her expression says, I’ve won again. What are you going to do about that?

In the next instant, Penwood’s large body is pinning her smaller frame against the table rail and his hands are in her hair. Integra leans back slightly, nonchalantly resting her hands against the green felt and wood frame on either side of her. When he kisses her sloppily she takes a moment to appreciate the warmth of another human’s body against her legs, her lips. Penwood is soft and flabby, and Integra finds this as amusing as she finds it distasteful. But she knows that this will not last, that it will never mean anything, and so she waits and does not wait long.

A chill suddenly seeps into the air around them, and it feels so foreign in the warm light of the sunset that casts rose shadows across the room. Penwood is only able to register the sensation as a quiet dread that suddenly causes him to feel cold and clammy. His senses are on high alert and he quickly opens his eyes and steps back, clearing his throat. He reaches up towards his neck and loosens his tie a bit, pulling the crisp, constricting collar of his white dress shirt away from his body. He avoids her eyes.

“Forgive me, Sir Integra, but the hour is late and I should be heading home.”

She nods and exchanges goodbye pleasantries with her old friend, though neither of them are paying attention. Penwood just wants to get the fuck out of the Hellsing manor, his thoughts filled with unformed feelings of guilt and fear.

Walter escorts him to the door.

Integra is still leaning against the table, her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her.

Her vampire is a possessive one, and he does not keep her waiting.

When Alucard appears, it is straight through the wall. First the tip of one black boot, his knee, encased in thick black fabric, the red brim of his hat. He is grinning like a deranged maniac, and she can’t see his eyes behind the yellow glass of his lenses.

Teeth bared, he strides towards her and even though he fills the air with a frost that caresses her skin and lingers as a chill upon her mind, she doesn’t shiver or fidget.

Within the space of a breath, he is before her, and her vampire is cool to the touch, his body hard against her thighs and stomach. He places his gloved hands on either side of hers, his thumbs barely stroking the knuckles of her pinkie fingers. He shifts his lower body slightly, and before she knows it he’s firmly pushed her legs further apart to settle his own in between them.

She can feel his erection, cold against her heat.

“That wasn’t very nice, Servant,” she says.

“You shouldn’t be such a cock tease, Master,” he replies.

Alucard smirks at her as he gently trails his hand up the sleeve of her white dress shirt. “You do know that they all want to fuck you, don’t you Master?” he asks.

Integra reaches up and knocks his wide brimmed hat off his head. It disappears out of her sight behind him with a soft whisper of cloth against cloth. “The thought has crossed my mind, Servant,” she says.

His fingers are skillfully untying her cravat. Without touching her skin, he pulls the red fabric away and undoes the top button of her shirt. “Penwood wants you to look up at him all moon-eyed and idiotic, like a love struck little girl while he fucks you gently,” Alucard says.

Integra lifts both her hands to either side of his face, grasping the sides of his glasses with the tips of her fingers. She tosses them to the side and hears them clatter against the hardwood floor. “I know,” she says.

“Taylor wants to have you on your knees while he fucks your throat and watches you cry,” Alucard says. His voice is a deep, low rumble that reverberates through his chest and dances across her skin. He releases the second button of her shirt, his dark red eyes never leaving hers.

“I highly doubt that he’s big enough to reach the back of my tongue, much less my throat,” Integra says as she places her hands back down on the table behind her. The light of the setting sun washes her monster in an artificial blush, giving life to his pallor. She wants to touch his cheekbones, but she holds herself in check.

“And Edwards! Edwards wants to bend you over…” Alucard’s left hand is braced on the tabletop as his right flattens out to cover the skin of her throat and collar bone that he’s exposed. He leans in.

“Right over the Round Table…”

Alucard’s hand is exerting the slightest of pressure against her sternum, and despite herself, she shudders at his cold touch. She leans backwards, slowly, following the leisurely pace he’s set.

“And cut your ugly man clothes to shreds…”

As Integra’s lower back starts to contact the table, her hands grip the ledge and she shimmies upwards and back. She lets her vampire lower her so that she’s lying on the felt top. Her legs are slightly bent, knees resting on either side of his hips.

“He wants to fuck you like an animal…” He looms over her and his breath is cool against her cheek.

“Like a desperate little bitch in heat…” He undoes her third button. A glimpse of her plain white bra comes into view.

“And he wants to hear you scream as he uses you…” Alucard is gently brushing errant strands of her long hair away from her neck. He runs the tip of one finger from the back of her earlobe to her collarbone.

“As he rides you until you beg him to stop…”

Her vampire’s pupils are dilated, and there is only a thin circle of red left of his irises. Integra doesn’t look away.

“He wants to grab you by the hair…” Strong fingers are suddenly tangled by her scalp. They grip her tightly, tilting her head to the side, further exposing her neck. Integra winces slightly at the pain.

“Throw you to the ground…”

His teeth are mere inches from her throat.

“And cum on your pretty little face.”

Alucard grazes the curved surface of his fangs against Integra’s pulsing carotid artery and she arches her back in response.

“Are you sure that’s what Edwards wants to do?” she asks, her voice icy.

He pulls away with a wicked grin. “Oh, Integra. I’ve always thought you’d look much prettier with my cum here,” he strokes her lower lip, “And here” his fingers brush against the side of her chin.

“I suppose even monsters should be allowed to dream,” she says.

Slowly, deliberately, Alucard takes hold of each of Integra’s wrists with his hands. He pushes her arms up to rest above either side of her head and then grips her crossed wrists firmly with one hand. With his other, he reaches down to the waistband of her trousers.

“My master, you are far too young and innocent to even begin to guess at my dreams,” he says.

Integra resents that. She hates losing the upper hand, but he’s right. She knows that her monster has seen and done things for centuries that could never cross her virgin mind.

But that hardly makes her innocent.

She lets him shred her pants between his gloved fingers. His dark energy slices the green fabric to ribbons and within seconds, her clothing is hanging off of her body in ruins. She knows that if she were to struggle and protest, only the devil would know whether or not Alucard would obey her commands to behave.

So she stays still and stares him down, daring him silently to do as he will.

Her favorite cue stick materializes in his hand, and she gasps in shock as he shifts his grip on the shaft and grazes the butt end against the inner seam of her briefs. Her gaze slips away from his eyes to that very hand, and she can see the clear definition of his joints beneath the white cloth and black pentagram that encases his skin. She is fixated on the line of his wrist as he twists the cue slightly back and forth, caressing her entrance through the flimsy material that covers her.

Her jaw tenses when gently drags the cue to the side and with another slow, careful twist of his wrist, her undergarment is pushed aside. The polished wood slides down against her slick folds.

She meets his unblinking eyes.

Another twist and the pressure increases.

Integra forgets to breathe

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When Integra wakes, the sun is hot upon her face and all she remembers is a vortex of black and red, and a man’s white glove upon a green table.

She ignores the strange ache between her thighs and heads straight to the bathroom for a long, cold shower.

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Behind her, the sun is setting. Integra is hunched over her desk, buried in her work as always.

When Alucard makes his appearance that night, she swears he’s smirking just a little more than usual. But all these thoughts are useless and Integra will never give in to her base desires. She levels a frosty glare at her servant over the rims of her glasses.

“You seem especially tense tonight, my master,” He says, baring all those very sharp teeth.

Integra ignores the way that his black hair falls carelessly over his pale forehead and yellow lenses.

“There are so many things that I could do to help you relax,” he says. He is advancing towards her, step by step, his boots clicking softly against the marble beneath.

When he comes within arm’s reach, she calmly grasps the pistol hidden under her desk and unloads three blessed silver bullets into his chest. Alucard vanishes in a swirl of shadows, his laughter echoing across the walls long after he is gone.

Integra knows that she can never have what she craves in the darkest of nights when she is alone beneath the covers. She knows that she must live for honor, and duty, and she would never want it any other way.

So for now she contents herself with position and power, cigarettes and alcohol.

Integra lives in the smoky haze of her cigars and the flat lines of her suit layers.

And she tells herself that she never wonders if there could be more.

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-Lyra
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Salvation is Yours if You'll Take it