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Idol Hands	By : Clocktower Category: -Misc Anime > Crossovers Views: 2327 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not hold the copyright for the Hellsing, Harry Potter, Bayonetta, or Tomb Raider fandoms. I do not profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Sneaking into the Hellsing Manor was a far simpler matter than Lara Croft ever could have hoped. An easy toss of the grappling hook, a few seconds scampering up a stone wall, a short drop and she was in the back courtyard, her only company a dry fountain, its marble blazing white in the moonlight. Beyond it, a dark cleft in the hedgerows.
The trick to moving through the dark unseen and unheard was to be quick. Dressed in a pair of shorts over a dark blue one-piece, Lara made almost no sound as she darted through the gap in the hedges. She'd spent the morning studying drone photos of the compound and had memorized the sequence of lefts and rights she would have to take to reach the gardener's shack.
At the end of the hedge maze, with the shack in sight, Lara stopped, listened. From her pocket she took a stone ankh on a leather cord and hung it over her neck. The ankh was older than the civilization associated with it, the cord far younger. Lara didn't want to know anymore about the leather than she already did and loathed having it against her skin, even as she hoped it was authentic.
The shack was a squat little building with a peaked roof. Lara caught the edge and hoisted herself onto the gray shingles, cursed when she saw how shabby they were. Between the lax security and state of disrepair, Lara Croft was embarrassed for the Hellsing Manor. A mansion owner herself, she expected better.
The gardener's shack was an add-on to the mansion itself, with a window right above the roof. Lara was used to trespassing in places where one didn't necessarily have to be quiet or gentle, and so prying open the mansion window without breaking it or making noise was indeed a challenge, as was slipping through once the window was open, but she managed. It was official, she was a burglar. The thought of what might befall her in this house was nothing short of arousing. On top of the usual worry about getting killed was the notion of what might happen should be she be captured. A fate worse than death in some ways. All the more exciting.
A few steps down the gallery hall and the ankh started twitching, as if some unseen hand were fumbling with it. Lara held it against her neck, cold as ice. A bizarre image flashed in her mind, of herself with both her pistols drawn, rubbing one against her crotch while sucking on the barrel of the other. She shook the scene out of her head and smiled. She'd been right to bring the ankh.
The manor was a dark, musty place, filled with things seemingly designed to gather dust. Lara suspected what she was after was in the basement, and so made her way downstairs, the ankh dancing and growing colder the nearer she got. It worked as a kind of compass, steering her in the right direction. Clearly something thought Lara's defenses would be easier to overpower if she were closer.
Clearly something was underestimating her.
Lara found the door to the basement, found the padlock a simple thing to defeat using a small pair of bolt cutters. The basement was pitch black. Lara took from her pocket a pair of green-tinted spectacles that would give her fairly decent night-vision for half an hour, twice as much time as she'd need. The basement was in fact a dungeon, and for the first time since she'd arrived Lara was a little jealous.
The ankh hopped frantically about her neck as she entered a long, stone hallway lined with wooden doors. Classic dungeon cells, Lara thought, thinking of all the people she'd like to have thrown in some cells of her own. While she suspected her goal lie behind the door at the end of the hall, she couldn't resist looking through the rectangular slots on the others. Most cells were empty, but the last one on the right contained something interesting. A young woman with bushy brown hair, strapped to a rack, her legs pulled up and spread out as if she were on display. Nude, she'd been blindfolded and gagged.
Someone's plaything.
People with toys like that didn't leave them alone for long, not after the sun went down, which meant Lara had to hurry up. The moment she stepped foot inside the room at the end of the hall the thing that has been fiddling with her ankh stopped playing and tried to tear it off her neck. The leather cord held like an iron chain, proving it was indeed authentic, to Lara's queasy satisfaction. She turned off her night-vision spectacles, for two massive candles on either side of an altar provided the room with what little light it needed.
On the altar sat an obscenity, one Lara had gone through a great deal of trouble to acquire, only to have the damned thing stolen during shipping. It had grown since she last saw it. It now stood as high as a Christmas tree, far too big for the leather sack she carried, the one covered in odd runes and sorcerous markings.
"That's not good," she whispered, before the candles flickered madly as if touched by some unseen wind.
Lara froze at the sound of a round being chambered behind her. "Don't move," said a woman.
"Seras Victoria, I presume," said Lara. "Former patrol officer with the Cheddar Police Department, deceased."
"Yes, that's me!" said Seras, cheerfully. "I mean, how do you know that? And who in blazes are you?"
Lara took a risk and turned around. She'd been hoping not to meet Integra Hellsing's pet vampire, but was prepared all the same.
"Who I am isn't important. What matters is that you have something that belongs to me. I've come to get it."
Seras held a pistol in a teacup grip, aiming at Lara's head. Typical, cocky vampire. Lara let her body go slack. Vampires predicted movement in part by reading minds. The less thinking involved in fighting them, the better. Had Seras been aiming for center-mass like a well-trained human, she might've hit Lara when she fired. Instead she was aiming for right between Lara's eyes, and so her bullet went high and hit the obsidian blasphemy growing between the guttering candles.
Lara let instinct do all the work when she drew her pistols and fired them at Seras, filling the vampire's torso with half a dozen rounds.
"Oh, you ruined my uniform!" Seras said, looking down her blue shirt at all the blood.
Rolling to her feet, Lara kept her pistols raised, pointed at the vampire's heart and head. The first three rounds in each pistol's magazine were lead with copper jackets, the remaining two-dozen were cast from silver and blessed by a priest.
"Come on now, let's not do this," said Seras, still upset over her shirt. "I have to buy my own clothes, you know, and I don't really get paid, the bullets hurt, and I think I shot..."
She looked for a moment as if she'd forgotten something. Plenty of time for Lara to make a conscious judgment call and fire. The bullets hit Seras in the hands, breaking bones and shredding flesh as they came apart inside her. The rest of Lara's rounds hit Seras' legs, destroying muscles, tearing tendons. One round did find Seras' skull, a glancing hit that avoided damaging any serious amount of brain matter.
Seras hit the floor with a wet thud. Lara ran out the door, knowing she didn't have much time before the vampire was mobile again. She remembered her way out of the basement and didn't bother with the night-vision glasses. The air was thick, hot. Someone had turned up the heat. She felt for the cold stone against her neck, found it gone. It must've slipped off during the fight. Lara saw herself in her mind's eye, kneeling before the woman she'd seen in the dungeon, licking her pussy.
Don't think, run. Let instinct do the work.
She cried out and stumbled. She imaged running through something like Velcro, tried not to imagine instead a million sharp cockroach legs all kicking and clawing. She no longer feared the vampire catching up to her. If she saw Seras again, surely it meant she'd been too slow to avoid the black idol's contamination.
Faster she went, up the basement stairs, towards the nearest exit, whatever it might be. She found herself in a courtyard, the wall marking the edge of the grounds meters away. Faster. Not a step backward, not a glance. Lara didn't have time to use her grappling hook to scale the wall, instead she put everything she had into one powerful leap and caught the edge with the tips of her fingers.
While they may have looked soft and supple, Lara Croft's hands were powerful iron hooks capable of not only supporting her body's weight, but of pulling it straight upward until she could shift her buttocks and legs over her head and roll over the top of the wall.
She wasn't where she'd planned to come out, but couldn't take the time to reorient, and so she bolted into an unkempt orchard, praying she'd lose at least one of her pursuers between the branches.
XXX
Three night's had passed since the intruder. Seras had completely healed from her wounds and now sat in the back of an armored personnel carrier on its way to a warehouse outside London.
"What a life," she said to herself, looking down at her hands, marveling at how quickly they'd healed. While she'd been turned by a first rate vampire, her powers were nothing compared to what his had been. Bullets hurt, silver bullets blessed by a priest hurt more. Seras would still be in her coffin, healing, had it not been for the feast Hermione had provided.
Better than blood, Seras thought, remembering how she'd removed the blindfold from the captured witch, all to better see the mix of terror and desire in her eyes. She'd removed the gag, too, wanting to hear Hermione beg, first to cum, then to stop cumming. The sight, the sound, the flavor of the woman all came together to make a meal better than anything Seras' had ever devoured.
She should focus on the mission at hand. There wasn't much to think about, really. Reports of bodies, murders, missing investigators, the usual hallmarks of a vampire or ghoul attack. Seras hoped to have everything wrapped up quickly, but knew better than to get careless. That's what had happened at the mansion, in the room.
The room where she'd first had Hermione.
She could still taste the witch on her tongue. It helped her wonder what having both Hermione and Integra would be like, how they'd blend. She imagined them both laid out for her, each eager to be chosen first.
The vehicle came to a stop. Seras picked up her Harkonnen cannon and she got out. The APC was stopped at the outlet of a long, gravel access road. Standing in the middle of it was rotund security guard, who merely gestured with his thumb to the immense black building behind him. Seras was impressed as she walked past him. Usually his type had some wisecrack to make about such a big gun being carried by such a petite woman.
Forcing open a steel door into the warehouse, she was assailed by the stench of blood, most of it beef, enough to almost cover the scent of human carnage. Much of the gore was piled in the center of the warehouse, a large open area bounded by high shelves and containers. Someone had gone all-out, she thought, seeing bits of white bone, chunks of red meat, all scattered around an intricate design drawn on the cement floor in blood.
"Bloody wankers," Seras said, stepping into the blood circle. Normally not a smart thing to do, but whomever had made this one clearly didn't know what they were doing, even Seras could tell. For one, it was all cow blood. No good. For another, there were too many lines, too many symbols, it was all just too much.
All too much.
The realization came too late. Her bones and muscles turned to lead. She fell on her knees, her chin against her chest; she was barely able to support her spine. There was human blood on the floor, alright, enough to make a proper trap circle, one hidden with cow blood. A lamp came on above her head, bathing her in harsh, yellow light. Someone walked behind her, picked up the Harkonnen and tossed it into the shadows.
"I have to admit, I was expecting you to be more of a challenge," said the burglar from three nights before. Seras strained to lift her head and get a good look at her. Long, shapely legs, tight, curvy hips, a chest that made Seras want to ask where she bought her bras.
"W-who are you?" Seras said, finding it hard to speak.
The woman drew one of her pistols, touched the muzzle to Seras' lips. She could smell the silver bullet in the chamber, a whiff of oblivion. "Lara Croft, at your service," said Lara. "How have things been for you lately, Seras?"
Lara pressed the gun into Seras' mouth. She let it past her teeth, held it still with her tongue. The sour taste of the metal made her salivate.
"Whad do ooh meand?" Seras said, her body too leaden and heavy to properly shudder.
"What's your life been like since you took that stolen bit of property into the Hellsing Manor?"
Seras thought for a moment. "Fide, I guess," she said.
"Fine? You mean you've always enjoyed carnal relations with Integra Hellsing? You've always kept a sex slave in the manor's dungeons?"
"Wadt?" said Seras, fighting the urge to suck the pistol as if it were a cock, one she'd rather not have cum in her mouth.
Lara sighed. "I don't suppose you found the ankh I dropped during our little tussle. No? I didn't think so. It wouldn't want you picking that up, now would it?"
"Whad are you 'alking gahbout?" Seras said, her eyes watering from the gun metal's acrid flavor. It was making her entire GI tract, from lips to anus, quiver.
Lara pushed the gun deeper, triggering Seras' gag reflex. She fought it hard, her eyes watering, praying Lara's finger wouldn't jostle the trigger too hard. Lara kept pushing, until Seras was on her back. "Really, you don't know what I'm talking about?" said Lara, taking the gun from Seras' mouth, positioning herself between Seras' legs.
"No, I don't," said Seras, her mouth free of the gun but not its threat. She still felt as if she weighed as much as a building.
Lara hitched up Seras' skirt, pulled aside her panties and pressed the wet muzzle of the pistol against the soft, moist flesh of her pussy. "Do you like what I'm doing to you right now? Do you feel humiliated, degraded, afraid? Don't answer, I know you do. I also know you love it."
Seras felt the gun inside her. The iron sight hurt, but the rest of it made her pussy tighten, made her so wet she could feel beads of moisture tickle her buttocks. "Yes," Seras said. "Yes, alright, I like it. What's your point?"
"The black idol you keep in the basement, the object you stole from the Derleth. It's not just a bad bit of sculpture, it contains... I suppose it's more accurate to say it channels, a consciousness."
The orgasm inside her was budding quickly, feeding off the slow pumping action Lara was giving the pistol. She knew she'd cum hard, hard enough to jostle the gun so it went off. Her pussy should have been drier than old burlap, but it felt like a waterfall down there. Seras liked guns, but she didn't like them this much. Something was very, very wrong.
"What's... what's happening..." Seras said.
"I'm fucking you with my pistol. I want to see you cum knowing it might go off."
"You're sick," Seras said.
"Yes, and so are you. So is your master and that woman you've got captive. The idol is making us sick."
"That's got nothing to do with it," Seras said through gritted teeth, her eyes tightly shut, all in a vain effort to hold off the orgasm. Rarely had Seras ever felt so separate from herself. She opened her eyes, long enough to see Lara take up a strange, leather bag covered in arcane symbols. The seal she was under left her powerless to keep it from being pulled over her head. Rather than be smothered, she felt like she was breathing air for the first time in weeks.
"Is that better?" said Lara as Seras gasped for air she didn't need.
It all fell on her at once, the weeks of deviant sex acts, the perverted urges eagerly gratified, both her own and those of the others. Sullied to her core, she wanted nothing more than to shrivel up and expire, but then she remembered the gun between her legs, holstered in her vagina, and the fog came creeping back. "Better," said Seras. "Keep... keep going, please."
"Guess the sack isn't worth what I paid for it after all," muttered Lara, pulling it off Seras' head and setting it on her chest. "Hurry up and cum. When you're spent, we can talk."
She worked the gun in and out, using her other hand to massage the sweet spot beneath Seras' hood. Seras felt the orgasm build and build, fed by the hardness of the gun, the threat of it going off, the strangeness of the whole scene. The last of the tension holding her together broke and she fairly exploded. For a moment Seras thought the gun had gone off, the massive trauma from the burning, silver bullet tearing through her being interpreted by her brain as the height of ecstasy. Moments after it peaked she was aware again. The gun hadn't fired, she was lying in a puddle of her own fluid, her pussy still eagerly hugging the gun inside it, as if sucking out every inch of bliss the cold metal object had stored away.
Lara gingerly pulled the gun out, licked the barrel clean before sliding it back inside its real holster. "How are you feeling?" she said.
"Better, I suppose," said Seras. "I want to know what you taste like."
"Time and some distance may help," said Lara. "I'm going to break the seal so you can move."
She smudged some of the bloodstains on the floor with her foot. Suddenly Seras found herself able to move. She got to her feet slowly, seeing from Lara's small, tense movements that she didn't fully trust her yet. That was alright, Seras thought, she didn't trust herself either, given all she could think about was what Lara Croft would taste like later.
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