AN: This is a re-upload of an old story.
With a taste both foul and sweet the silken blood slipped down Seras's throat. Older than the finest vintage and far more precious than the most highly treasured cask.
She swallowed, and suckled for a time at the freshly made wound until the pricked red holes closed up and she was suckling only on pink-smeared skin.
Her master wove his fingers into her hair. He pulled enough for her to feel the pleasant sensation, and for her body to thrill in response. He kneaded her scalp, and she hummed and purred. She sat astride him, and his free hand rested heavily on the healthy curve of her hip.
He gripped her hair harder and lifted her head. His lips met hers, and their kiss tasted as rich as the blood they both shared.
Her small, sure hands found their way beneath his waistcoat, then his shirt. She had shed her gloves, and her blood-smeared fingertips left pink stains on the stiff white cotton.
Her nails sank into the skin beneath.
Alucard growled, little more than a grumble, and gave Seras's tongue a corrective nip. Her hands became soft again, but the shadows around the two vampires continued to move and shift. Her demons were black and silken shadows, as silent and watchful as cats. His were slower to rouse, his slinking, many-eyed hounds. They were drawn by the blood-letting. Perhaps his hoped for a battle – Seras could sense their hunger in the sweetly scented air. Hers, she knew, desired only blood; they would lap the crypt clean with barbed tongues and stand vigil over hers and her master's magic.
Blood magic, the oldest kind. Seras was barely twenty but the blood in her veins was far, far older, and in it flowed instinctual knowledge. In her blood was power.
Alucard kissed her more deeply. Both his hands were at her hips, kneading and squeezing, and grinding her down against his hardening length. She could feel it beneath his clothes, swollen with blood.
His hair was twining with hers. She leaned into it and felt tendrils wrap around her neck, silky and tender. She pulled at his shirt and it dissolved into black in her fingers. Crimson eyes winked and were swallowed into the mass, and then he was naked, his flesh white as stone but slick with a pinkish, blood-tinged sweat, and so cold, as though he were sick. His strength told her different, along with the hammering of his dead heart, that pushed the stolen blood through his veins. His eyes were so vivid they were almost orange, and looked feverish. She wondered if hers looked the same, or if they were still cool blue.
His hands became claws and ripped her clothing away. It transformed to black-red sludge as the garments hit the floor, and the ooze slithered away to join the heaving, crawling shadows that surrounded them and whispered and danced and made the crypt room into a pocket of black and blood, a thousand red eyes balefully watching.
He pushed her down onto her back. Instead of cold, damp flags her skin met a velvety soft, throbbing, dark blanket. The shadows embraced her and cradled her body, and she reached for her master. He bared his teeth. His lips and fangs were shiny with spit, his lips swollen from kisses and bites. His hair swayed and twisted. It spread from him like a black halo, a black and writhing thorny crown.
She spread her legs and pulled him down to her with her heels on his hips. He sank into her smoothly. The shadows sang, and Alucard's hair twisted around her milk-pale limbs. They kissed, and moved with each other, in time with the heavy drumbeats of their cold hearts.
They clawed at one another as their passion grew. Seras closed her eyes, though her third eye remained wide open. She was wrapped in darkness, her skin slick and slippery with blood – their fingers drew blood where they scratched, and they both bit; blood ran from marks on Alucard's throat and shoulders, and from fresh, glistening wounds on Seras's wrists, neck, and breasts.
She widened her legs for him. He hooked her knees over his elbows and tilted her hips up. His cock was thick and warm with the blood of their kill, and he plunged it into her again and again. The smooth shaft shone with Seras's fluids, and her thighs were wet and slick. Everything was tinged with blood. Seras couldn't even taste it anymore, couldn't even discern the smell, the heady perfume too deeply suffused her senses.
When Alucard came it made the shadows around them shiver and sigh. Seras felt the tension in them even before her master's muscles bunched and his body trembled, before the series of rough, jabbing thrusts and then the one deep grind. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, just as tightly as his hair gripped her, and bit deep into his shoulder as she felt his come flood inside her. Only then did she find her own release, and her demons screamed with hellish voices in harmony with her ecstatic cry.
They rocked together for some time after. The demons, the shadows, receded until Seras and her master were once again twined together on the floor of Alucard's dungeon chamber, the stone slab floor scraping against Seras's back.
With the blood-shadows gone, the candles in the chamber flared alight once more.
Alucard slid out of her and knelt up. He took her feet, one in each hand, and held her open. Seras stretched her arms above her head. Her breasts hung soft and heavy, lifted by the movement of her arms. Between her spread legs her sex was vivid pink, almost scarlet, the lips puffy and tender, the inner entrance supple and warm. A thick, pink-tinged fluid leaked from the seal of her cunt, and Alucard dipped his head to lick at it. Seras sighed and closed her eyes, and in her third eye she saw a worming flicker of shadow making its miraculous way, born of blood and death and the oldest demon magic, deep, deep inside. A dark seed.