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What Does Fear Bring?	By : GoldAngelFish Category: Hellsing > General Views: 3384 -:- 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-What Does Fear Bring?
- 1
~Hellsing and related characters
belong to Kohta Hirano. Thou shalt not sue the muse.~

(Anime continuation; post Order 13.
What truly is the price rulers pay upon watching their empire crumble?)

It's past midnight, and I can hear
her moving, pacing around in the prison she calls her bedroom. Soft sounds of
bare feet padding along carpet and polished wood floors. The heavy oak door
muffles the sounds, but to my ears, her movements are as clearly defined as if
I was standing in the room, watching her. A sharp sound, a match being struck
most likely, and the scent of her cigars fill the air. I can hear her inhale
deeply, taking in her only comfort from those ghastly things that will more
than likely kill her. Not that I would let anything take her from me. Sir
Integra Wingate Hellsing is mine, even if she doesn't realize it yet. Promised
me by her father, to make up for the hell of imprisonment. I don't believe he
meant for things to happen as they did, but regardless, she is mine.

The pacing quickens, and I know she
does this to stave off the exhaustion that follows her, hangs over her
shoulder. She's an incurable insomniac, and occasionally I wonder if that was
my doing. Intimately connected with a being that requires very little to no
rest, she might have picked up my restlessness. I remember she slept well as a
child of twelve, but that was before her father died and left her to pick up
the broken threads of the Hellsing Organization. Shadows are a door to anywhere
I choose to go, and I go now, melting through the darkness into the silence of
her bedroom. She doesn't see me yet, but she'll sense my presence within
moments. I always have so little time to simply gaze at her before she turns to
me. She's quite beautiful, even if she chooses to not see it. Platinum hair
falls to the base of her shoulders, in disarray from the time spent tossing and
turning on her pillows. Icy blue eyes stare out at the panoramic view of
London, and I can see her glasses set on the bedside table. Dark blue men's
pajamas hide the curves of her body, but I know those curves very well. Being
the only creature who has ever looked upon her unclothed, and that is a
pleasure I indulge in often, I always feel smug satisfaction when men look at
Integra with disgust. They do not know the pleasures to be had on that bronzed
skin. Even now, believing herself alone and unobserved, her spine is still
rigid, her shoulders back and chin elevated in that defiant fashion that makes
me want to kiss her lingeringly. She always acts impatient with herself, and I
can see it now as she stubs the cigar out in the ashtrays that Walter spends so
much time arranging in each room for her convenience.

"What
do you want, Alucard?" She's become much quicker at sensing me, and the
snap in her tone only makes me smile. I love to anger her, to watch the fire
burn in her eyes as she battles to keep from striking or shooting me. She
doesn't turn to face me, but her spine straightens a bit more.

"Only
to see you rest, Master." My tone doesn't disarm her, it never does. She turns
to glance at me, her cool eyes hard. They consider her an ice queen, but I see
the passion in her eyes, sometimes the only thing that keeps her moving through
each day. I smile, a grin which she always believes is me mocking her. Does she
realize that I truly smile for no one but her?

"I do
not need you watching my every step. You may go, Alucard." I step towards
her, and see the flicker in her eyes. She doesn't expect me to disobey any
command she issues, and whenever I do, it always startles her. " I said
go. Leave, Alucard." I shake my head, the smile still on my face.

"No,
Master. Don't you know how worried Walter is over your sleepless nights?"
She turns away from me in a crisp, militant movement. Always aware of her
dignity, her pride. How I love her. The first mortal I've ever loved.

"Walter
often concerns himself with things not of his sphere. I will sleep when I feel
the need." I slide behind her, standing as close as I always do. This is
the only contact she allows herself, that she allows me. Never touching, but
close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body. I am always with her in
this fashion, standing at her back to protect her from those who wish her harm.

"The
need is upon you now, but you will not heed it." She shrugs, an eloquent
gesture which means nothing to anyone else. I see the slump of her shoulders,
the tense lines of her neck. She has never asked me to touch her, and I know
she never will. Asking would be admitting weakness, and that is something a
Hellsing cannot do. She stiffens when my hands rest on her shoulders, her jaw
tensing.

"Get
your hands off of me, Alucard." Again, another command I ignore as I begin
to knead her shoulders, rubbing the tension from them. Her muscles are tightly
knotted, stress having forced her beyond what other mortals, not Hellsing
family, could take. She tries to pull away, but I keep my grip on her.

"Don't
you ever wish for comfort, Master?" She shakes her head, her tone sharp.

"Not from you, Alucard."
I have to smile. She's so defiant, her every word a shot on a battleground.
We're always vying for supremacy, she and I. I'm careful to never push too
hard, lest she think that she's not as in command as she would like. Her body
is losing its tense posture, and I can feel muscles relaxing under my gentle
kneading. She'll never admit how much she needs me, and I can't help but love
her all the more for that. She pulls away, and this time I let her, watching as
she tosses her platinum hair over her shoulder. Her eyes flash when she turns
to look at me, the defiance covering the longing I can feel from her. "Go
away, Alucard." Again, I defy her, and I can see the anger burning in her
gaze. She never understands why I smile when she does this, why I watch her
shoulders pull back, her chin tilt up. I love the anger in her eyes. She's so
alive when she wants to strangle me. I watch her pull away, as if I would
attack her. Hurt her? No, she is mine, and I never harm what is mine. I
remember her jealousy when I strode up with the police girl in my arms. The
hurt in her eyes, the sharp tone of her voice as she snapped about how foolish
I was being. I know she feared the girl was going to draw my attention away
from her, perhaps even...my love. As if I could look at anyone besides her. My
master, strong and fearless, sharp-tongued and fierce, with a pride even I
could not break. She turns away from me, lest I see what I
know is in her eyes. She loves me, and will not admit to herself that the
vaunted Hellsing has fallen for the very creature she is sworn to destroy. I
smile at her, at the stiff way she holds herself. She's tormented herself for
endless nights, ever since she realized that she loved me, and now I intend to
make sure she understands why we're drawn to each other like moths to open flame.
I know she hears my coat land on the wingback chair near the fireplace, and
feels the air as my hat follows. She still doesn't turn, and for a moment, I
wonder if she knew I would come to her like this, if she knew all along. Her
shoulders are still stiff, and I have to smile, knowing that she didn't. Suit
jacket, and then the gloves follow my outer wear, and as I walk to her, taking
care to remain silent, I wonder if she knows just how much she means to me,
that I would remove those gloves to touch her. She is stiff as I sidle up
behind her, holding herself rigid to not chance giving in to some odd desires.
I would laugh, but this...this night means too much to chance losing with a
careless gesture. When I touch her again, she stiffens, ready to pull away from
me. Not tonight. I don't grab her, hold her or tug at her. I just stroke her
arms through the heavy cotton of those damn pajamas. She turns, confusion
showing in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Alucard?
What are you doing?" I silence her with a finger to her lips, and watch
the amazement and realization dawn in her eyes. She reaches up and touches my
hand, feeling the lack of a glove, and blinks in surprise. Suddenly, she tries
to draw away, but I'm much quicker than any mortal, and I catch her. Wrapping an
arm around her waist, I let her struggle against me, let her believe that she's
fighting against demonic temptation when all she's truly fighting is herself.
The struggle begins to slow as I stroke her neck, pushing away the heavy
platinum blonde strands that stand between my lips and her skin. I can sense a
touch of fear, something she rarely feels in my presence, and my lips find her
ear.

"
Shhhh...it's not what you think...Master." I let my finger trace her soft
lips, enjoying the slightly spicy scent of her. Her Indian mother granted her
dark bronze skin and a personal scent that reminds me of the air of the Indies.
Her father's brilliant blue eyes blaze at me from her face, and she opens her
mouth again as if to protest. I stop her with a kiss. We've never touched
before, nothing beyond brutal blows or her lying in my arms as I carry her out
of danger, or to her bedroom after she's exhausted herself working in that
thrice-damned office of hers. Now her lips are warm beneath mine, soft and
yielding. I would smile at how her body betrays her, but all I can think of is
how she tastes. The sweet taste of the tea she consumes in such large amounts,
a bit of bitter tobacco from her cigars, and her. The rich taste unique to
Integra, perhaps part of the Hellsing blood. I don't know, nor do I care as I
wrap my arms around her, pulling her body against mine. She is soft, oh, so
soft through her clothing, her body curved and inviting against mine. Her hands
push at my shoulders. Ineffectual, at best, and inflaming at worst. It is
perhaps, worse now, for all her struggle does is inflame my desire even
further. She may fight me, but her lips are parting of their own accord. I can
truly taste her now, and the sensation goes right to my head. She can't press
back the soft moan I feel in her mouth. It would never be voiced, but I hear it
just the same.

Her arms stop pounding my chest and
slide up my arms to link her fingers in my hair. Her caresses feel like fire
tracing my skin, not hurting, but igniting everything I'm holding back. If
she's not careful, she'll get more than either of us bargained for. She presses
against me now, kissing me eagerly. The scent of her body wafts past my nose,
and I can feel the controls on my behavior snapping. Every movement of her against
me, the slight shifts of her body, push me further from control. She is on
tiptoe now, her arms wrapped around my neck, kissing me with the passion I know
rages through her. She is no ice queen, my Integra, but a woman vibrating with
fire. When her hips press against mine suddenly, I have to moan into her mouth
as she rubs against my erection. She gasps when I press back, letting one hand
drop to cover her smooth cheeks and press her harder against me. Let her feel
what she does to me. Just watching her sip tea can cause a problem I have to
use my coat to hide, lest someone notice and make unseemly comments. Now,
however, there is no one but her to feel this. I rub against her, making sure
to grind against her softness, letting her get sparks of the pleasure I can
give her, if she will only consent. Even now, as desperate as I am for her
taste, her warmth, if she commands me away, I will have no choice but to obey.
I may disregard some of her orders, but if she tells me to go, I will know
there is no hope for the love I feel. She pulls away from me, her glorious blue
eyes glittering fiercely. When her lips part, I almost silence her with a kiss,
but instead I let her speak, knowing this is the deciding factor in my night.

"Alucard..."
She pauses, and I feel all hope depart. I do not draw away yet, for the words
haven't passed her lips. She hesitates before looking up at me, and I see the
anger at her own vulnerability flashing in her eyes. "I...Alucard,
I'm..." Before she finishes, I know what it is she's trying to say. My
Integra is a virgin, and fully justified in her fear of the pain to come.
Centuries do, however, give one time to figure different ways to go about the
same procedure, and I kiss her softly in reassurance before murmuring into her
ear.

"I'll
be gentle." Those three words seem to take all of the hesitation from her,
and her sapphire eyes drift closed and she tilts her head back, her fingers
playing with my hair. The trust she shows in me, baring her throat without even
asking if I've fed this evening, takes what little breath I hold for speech
away. Again, our lips meet, and this time I linger, touching and tasting her,
enjoying the feel of her soft velvet against mine. Her hands are playing with
my hair, stroking through it, touching my neck, and I almost shudder with the
sensations. I can't help myself, and I pull her closer, taking her feet from
the ground as I wrap my arms around her, pressing her body against mine and
kissing her deeply. She doesn't pull back, but abandons herself to my arms,
parting her lips and seeking my mouth in a deeper kiss. I groan again, mentally
this time, and feel the spike I've developed get a trifle harder.

She feels it, I know she does, but
her only response is to rub her hips against mine as best she can with her feet
dangling a foot off of the ground. I set her down, drawing away, and I can hear
her breath. It is quicker, softer and she lookes quizzically at me as I pull
away from her. She thinks I'm leaving, I can see the defensive walls already
building in her mind, prepared to deny everything and pretend nothing happened.
Not tonight. I simply unfasten the bow around my neck and drop the red silk
onto the chair. I turn, letting her see me undress. Vest, cravat and shirt
follow my coat and jacket onto the chair, and I turn to her, bare from the
waist up. The moonlight doesn't give much illumination for her eyes to see, and
I know how nearsighted she is, but even despite that, I hear her breath catch
in her throat as she gazes at me. Luminous turquoise eyes glide over my body,
firing my desire further, and she looks at my face with an expression I've only
seen hinted at in her eyes before. Desperate longing, a hint of fear, and
raging desire all combine to give her the most angelic look I've seen. My boots
follow, leaving nothing but the slacks to separate us, for I do not intend
those damn heavy cotton pajamas to remain covering her much longer.

"Come
here, Master." I hold out my hand, knowing that if this is what she truly
wants, she will come to me. This is not a sign of dominance, as she might
think, for I know who my master is. The moonlight is brighter here, and I want
to see all of her. She hesitates, as I knew she would, glancing at me warily,
deciding if her authority is being challenged before she walks forward and
takes my hand. Her fingers are cold, almost colder than my own would be if I
was not flushed with blood and yearning. I stroke her hand as I bring her
closer, looking at her eyes that shine at me even from the shadows. I could
have her clothing off in seconds, simply by willing the shadows to take them,
but I want to do this myself. Enough time, later, for a demonstration in what
my shadow-play can do for her. The buttons on her pajama top are easily
navigated, and I hear her breath catch as the last one falls undone. I kiss her
again, feeling the hesitation this time in her lips, but as I part her lips and
stroke her tongue with my own, she arches towards me, and I slide my hand
across her stomach. Satin feels rough compared to the skin under my hand, warm
and soft and vibrating over taut muscle. Her breathing has changed again, and I
love the sound of her light panting in my ears. Breaking away from her lips is
harder than anything I've had to do before, but the reward is worth it. When I begin
kissing her neck, she bends in my arms, pliable and soft. She's a little tense
when I graze my fangs on her flesh, but a few gentle kisses relieve the
tension. I will not make her one of us now, it is not time.

Instead, I run my tongue over her
collarbone, tasting her spicy skin eagerly. Her nails are raking my shoulders
now, and I pause to pull her hands to my face and kiss her palms. She gazes at
me, sapphire eyes burning hotly, and strokes my face. I don't move, relishing
the first voluntary touch she's ever given me. Her face is gentle now, more
beautiful than I could imagine, at peace as she strokes my face, letting her
fingers explore what she's never dared touch before this. Her hands are soft,
softer than anyone would guess, and warm against my cool skin. Her fingertips
glide over my lips, and I part them to catch her hand. She gasps when I begin
sucking on her fingers, toying with them, nibbling on her nails and stroking
her fingers with my tongue. Her eyes flash when I stop, sliding her damp fingers
from my mouth as I bend to kiss her softly. Tossing her hair back, she keeps a
tight hold on her fierce pride, tiptoeing to kiss me firmly, meeting me more
than halfway. I startle her, I think, with the low purr that comes from my
throat when she comes into skin contact. Our bare flesh presses together, and I
hold her tightly, savoring the contact. She pulls away for a moment, turning
from me, leaving me bereft of her warm skin. I watch her walk away, and for a
horrible moment, I can almost hear her commanding me back to my dungeon cell.
Instead, she lights a candle, throwing the room into immediate visibility with
the golden light. She turns, and I see the hope in her eyes gleam in the light.

"Alucard."
She doesn't have to speak twice. I'm already by her side, stroking the platinum
blonde hair away from her face, caressing her cheek. I don't think she ever
expected this of me, tenderness, a fascination with everything about her. I'm
rather pleased to surprise her, which I do when I fall to my knees before her
and gaze up with everything I feel in my eyes. Luminous blue blinks as she
looks down on me, hands extended to draw me to my feet. Even on my knees, my
mouth is at the level of her chest, and I use this to my advantage. Such a
pleasure knowing no man has sullied her flesh, that she is mine completely. All
the caresses I lavish upon her, all of the sensual tricks to use she has never
experienced before. This fires my passion even further, and when I slide my
hands over her ribs, feather light, almost tickling touches, I see wonder in
her eyes. A smile I can't repress comes to the fore, and before I proceed with
what I long to do, I quirk the grin up at her.

"I've
wanted you ever since you were born, Integra." She understands, as I knew
she would, that I did not mean carnal interest in a child. Although her age of
thirteen when we officially met was the age of marriage in my time, I knew that
patience would yield far greater reward. Gazing over her body, at the softness
of her breasts, her firm stomach, up the swanlike throat to her beautiful face,
surrounded by that shining platinum hair, oh yes, my patience has been well
rewarded. Running my fingertips up her spine, I watch her eyes fall closed,
even as her back arches, offering her breasts to me. I never was one to turn
down such an offer, and when my lips brush the underside of her breast, tracing
the curve, I hear her gasp. Her hands on my shoulders tighten, and she looks
down, startled. A glimmer of astonishment at her own body shows in her eyes,
and I smile up at her. "Don't fight it, Master. Let me show you all that
we may have together." Perhaps my wording strikes a chord, but she
stiffens, and tries to pull away abruptly. Now, no matter her words, I may
disobey at will, for her body has betrayed her too easily, and I know what she
wants. Perhaps gentle lovemaking was simply my thoughtful dream, for Integra is
too fierce to be softly wooed. My grip tightens and I pull her back to me
almost violently. When her mouth opens to protest, my mouth opens on her
breast, and when I begin suckling on her firm nipple, her resistance melts.
Gentleness is not something that is often between us, and I see that even now,
it will take much longer to reach that point. She is all fire and ice, extremes
of passion and duty, and I meet that, gripping her body tightly, pulling her to
me as I suckle hard, drawing moans from her throat. I let all that I feel blaze
in my eyes as I look up at her. The dominator is often only overwhelmed by
their desire to be dominated, and this I know. She looks down, her eyes aflame
with the emotion running through her blood, and I grin, licking my lips as my
hands slide downward in preparation.

"You're
mine, Integra, even as I am yours. Master of the monster, my mistress and
owner, isn't it time you gave your slave his reward?" She never has a
chance to speak, and I have those god-awful pajama bottoms off of her and
across the room before she finishes blinking. Supporting her with one hand, I
spread her legs with the other, watching the fear and lust play across her
sapphire eyes. The grin comes to my face again as I let my tongue slide out of
my mouth. Perhaps she doesn't think I saw her swallow the time I licked blood
off of her desktop after her accident with the letter opener? I let my tongue
emerge the full ten inches, just to lap at those three drops of blood, and out
of the corner of my eye I saw her swallow hard. I wiggle the tip at her, and
again, as before, she swallows. {Such thoughts, my Integra...} I can only grin,
then begin running my tongue over her hips, teasing, tracing patterns while my
bare fingers brush over the soft, moist lips that have never been touched by
man or woman. Her gasping moan is my reward, and when her head falls back and
her body relaxes into my hand, I give her hers.

Tongue between her thighs and
thence between the eager lips. Her entire body jerks when I lick along her damp
flesh, stroking the firm bud hard with my tongue, avoiding her entrance as
punishment for making me wait so very long. Her moans are quiet, yet continuous
now, and I feel her blood pounding in her veins. A free hand I have now, and it
goes to her breast, cupping the heavy mound and stroking over her nipple,
adding pleasure to torment, making her writhe against the supporting and controlling
hand on her back. Enough playing, I begin sucking in earnest now, drawing on
the bud and laving her with my tongue. Just teasing her entrance, I let the tip
of my tongue slide into her, and her soft cry lets me know what she wants.
Shadows are always handy, and my slacks and boxers are gone within seconds.
We've never been common, she and I, and neither shall this be. No bed, no
floor. Her bronze skin shall touch nothing but me, and when I bring her down to
straddle my hips, she realizes this. The fear is gone from her eyes and mind,
leaving nothing but the woman who wants me. Me, none other. She has never
looked at other men with desire, but I remember many times when her eyes
darkened as I lifted her into my arms to carry her somewhere safe, or when I
licked the blood from whatever object had injured her. She presses against me
now, her breasts against my chest, drawing a sound from the pair of us as skin
contact heightens the flames. Her lips are soft, parted as she pants, and I
kiss her hard, winding one hand in her hair to yank her head back so that her
throat is bare for my mouth. She doesn't even stiffen when I let my fangs graze
her skin, and the temptation to taste the nectar of her blood fills me. As does
another temptation, and that one I give in to. Muscle control which mortal men
could not claim is mine, and when my hardness rubs against her outer lips of
its' own accord, she jumps. Not with fear, but with a sudden flare of passion.
Her mouth finds mine almost blindly, and her entire body presses forward.

I bring my coat to the floor behind her, and shadowy tendrils
spread it open. I will have the scent of this to carry with me for many months,
as talisman when I charge into battle in her name. Lying her back will come
soon, but for now, I lift her slightly, and position myself. Prolonged
lovemaking, teasing caresses will come in time, but this is the moment of our
communion, and I know she senses it. Her legs part further, and she presses
against me, her breath coming in gasps. I tremble myself, with eagerness, and
control must be exerted. Gentle, I promised, and gentle I am when I slide
carefully, oh, so carefully into her, breaking her maidenhead with a slow
thrust. The pain makes her cry out softly, but my mouth on her breast makes her
hips jerk, which draws me fully into her. Both of us gasp, for she is tight
around me, hot and so moist I slide without movement at all. Her legs lock
around my waist, and for a moment, we pause, as she adjusts to the feeling of
me being inside her, and I hold my control tightly. I move, just to lay her on
her back, and she cries out with the pleasure caused.

Passion, oh yes, she is
personification of passion. When she is laid out on my coat, she gazes up at
me, those eyes which are bluer than blue glimmering, and her fingers trace my
lips. I kiss her hand, and then thrust for the first time. Her head falls back,
and her back arches as nails dig into my shoulders. For me, this is the promise
fulfilled at last. She is mine, and every movement I make, sliding into and out
of her reinforces this. I always knew she would be no shy flower when fully
awakened, and she fulfills my wildest dreams when she begins bucking beneath
me, thrusting her hips up to meet me, her nails raking bloody scratches across
my shoulders. The pain, which I've always liked, adds to my pleasure, and when
I run my lips over her throat, her gasps sing in my ears. Integra never was a
woman to simply be taken, and when her name crosses my lips, I know a demand is
soon to follow.

"Alucard..."
I know her body is singing due to the gasp in her voice from just a simple
word.

"Yes,
Integra? Did you...want...something?" The emphasis on 'want' I make with a
thrust of my hips, causing her body to writhe against mine even as she gasps
for air to speak.

"What...what
do you...want?" Her words are measured by my movements, her breath coming
faster with every shift of my body. For a moment, I ponder the question. It was
not meant as some might believe. She knows I do this not because I desire something,
but because I desire her. This...this is the question of a woman who desires to
please her lover, and this is the measure of her resolve. Will she give me what
I hunger for? When I look down at her, I drown in her eyes, the fathomless
ocean of blue glimmering through silver lashes that gazes up at me, filmed with
lust. I lean down, letting my weight press on her, drawing a gasp as our skins
rub together, slick with her sweat.

"Do
you truly wish to know?" Her nails digging into my shoulder and waist are answer
enough, and I purr when she whimpers. " A taste, only a sip, of your
blood, Master, would give me pleasure undreamt of." She shudders against
me, and for a moment, I fear she is disgusted, or enraged, at the idea. Then, I
realize that she is laughing. Laughing? My Integra? I raise myself to look at
her, curious at the reason for this laughter. She looks into my eyes, smiling
brightly, flushed with passion, and runs a finger over my lips.

"Undreamt
of, Alucard? I think your lies are becoming half-hearted." I catch the
joke, and laugh myself. Not the manical laughter of battle, but deep-throated
laughter she rarely hears. Brushing my lips over the line of her throat, I
recieve my answer. She tilts her head back, as she presses her hips up, nails
digging into my skin as her legs tighten around my waist. A few hitching
breaths, and I know she is preparing herself for pain. From baohbahn sith
perhaps, but any undead worth their blood can bite and cause the minimum of
pain and the ultimate thrill. Instead of shocking her with my fangs, I surprise
her in a different way.

"Releasing
Control Art Restriction Level Four." The ritual phrase makes her eyes open
as the room around us fades into darkness. The shadows come to me when I call,
stroking her body and running through her hair. She arches against me, her eyes
falling closed again as my lips touch her throat once more. The shadows will
distract her from my fangs until I'm ready for her immediate attention. Slow,
deliberate movements, from my body and my shadows cause her breathing to
increase, panting hard. As her nails scrape my back, digging in to gain some
purchase on the sensations flooding her, I let my fangs graze her skin, drawing
delicate welts on the golden satin under them. Her body shudders, an instinctive
response to the idea of a 'vampire' touching her, but with a few gentle rolls
of my hips, her breath becomes quick and light, her body arching up to mine as
I nibble her throat. The blood pounding through her veins, sweeter and richer
than she could ever know, is just under her skin, I can feel the beat of her
heart pushing it through her body. So close to my lips. Now is the ultimate
sign of our trust. How far can we go before either of us snap? For me, the
scent of her blood strains my control, and I feel my fangs enlarging through
the gums. For her, the idea of me over her, inside of her, keeping her under
complete control, and then sinking my fangs into her must tug at her mind. And
yet, she still presses up against me, offering her throat to me with only a
tightened jaw to indicate how hard this is for her. Tasting her skin heightens
everything for the both of us; her breath hitches, and her muscles tremble, and
my throat becomes instantly dry, veins crying out for her blood. I stroke her
body, coaxing her to soft cries as I kiss her throat. When she moans, deeply,
and her hips tilt upwards to mine, as she presses for a new angle, I strike. A
muted cry of pain escapes her lips, even as a groan of delight escapes mine.
Her blood is sweeter than she could imagine, thick and Hellsing rich.

I linger,
sip, relish the flavor that seems to fill every vein, every muscle�Hellsing
blood, raging through my body. Our rhythm slows as I sip, her hands stroking
through my hair, eyes drifting shut. I do not ravage her, although in the
future, perhaps yes. Now, I simply enjoy what is given freely. I cannot remain
under control for long with this taste in my mouth, and my hips begin to move
with more insistence. She pants suddenly, back arching as my mouth leaves her
throat. A slow swipe of my tongue heals the breach of skin, and I kiss away the
traces of blood, savoring the lingering taste. Blood is thicker than water, and
for that, I am grateful.

Such
feelings do not leave us willing to remain evenly paced. She grips my hips
demandingly with her knees, and I am more than happy to obey my master�s
unspoken command. I thrust, hard enough to elicit a small cry of pain, and
begin anew with the near-frenzied motions. Her blood rises to meet the change,
and her hips match mine in movement. Long legs wind about my waist, shifting to
tilt her hips higher, almost pleading for release. I am surprised, and in no
way displeased, that she has allowed me control of this. Even the ruler of
Hellsing must eventually allow the reins into someone else�s hands.

Integra
gasps, and I feel the pain of her teeth in my shoulder. Nails rake down
suddenly across my back, and I groan at the rending pain. Nothing truly happens
in concert, and when I seek her lips to stroke with my tongue, she gasps my
name in climax. Muscles shuddering, her head falls back, and I am drawn again
to nuzzle her throat. Her fingers wind in my hair, and she draws my head up,
pulling my lips to hers. Her tongue seeks my mouth, and the knowledge that she
is searching for the taste of her own blood finally pushes me past the limits
of control. I groan her name, burying my face into her neck as I reach my peak.
Integra shudders, again, muscles clenching, almost in surprise, as she climaxes
again.

Licking her
sweat from my face, I shift now, taking my considerable weight from her.
Shadowy tendrils draw the coat up about her nude form, and her hands clench
when I slide from her. Sapphire eyes are dark now, watching me silently. I kiss
her, as gently as I ever have done anything, and pull her into my arms. Dark
tentacles have turned down the bed to receive us, and she struggles free of the
heavy wool of my coat to reach for me as I place her in the sheets. Black
movement of shadow, and the drapes are drawn tightly shut. I allow her to draw
me down, and can�t help but smile slightly as she buries her face in my chest,
one leg thrown across mine as if to ensure I cannot leave. I know she feels
fear: fear for what the dawn will bring, fear of what this has done to her
control over her singular weapon, fear for what this means to her. As she
drifts into sweet, and what will be dreamless, sleep, I stroke her hair and
await the dawn.

I will show
her how little grounding her fear has, at sundown.
- 1
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What Does Fear Bring?