Title: Sinning Hands
Pairing: Alexander/Integra
Note: Still not mine; however, this little plot bunny is. Sequel to Sinful Thoughts, due to such overwhelming demand.
She tried to tell herself that she wasn't in the Vatican's stronghold on the slight possibility of seeing Anderson. But even as she bantered easily with Maxwell, trying to divvy up the world for their respective religions, she couldn't help but feel her skin prickling. "I notice your beast isn't with you," Maxwell sneered, and she looked up from lighting her cigar. She took a few puffs before responding, "Alucard is dealing with Ms Seras and her…unwillingness to come into her vampirism fully. And you, you're here alone. Surely Anderson would be as enraged as a wet cat to know a Protestant is on his home turf."
Maxwell chuckled, sipping at his tea. "Father Anderson is dealing with a problem for the moment. Iscariot tends to keep him rather busy. Though, I must say I'm a little surprised you agreed to come here, rather than meet on mutual ground." Integra gave him an icy look over her glasses, "The last time we tried to meet on mutual ground, our respective monsters destroyed a museum. I'm hoping me being here will keep me safe, wouldn't want you to waste all the tithe money used to build this lovely cathedral." The look the Archbishop gave her told her she was correct, and she gave him a cheeky smile.
Integra got to her feet and moved to look out the big picture windows. It was funny to think she had spent most of her day with the cocky Archbishop and that they had been oddly civil to one another. Though it didn't take a genius to see that it was Alucard and Anderson who tended to escalate the situations quickly. She watched as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon. "You know," came Maxwell's voice from his seat at the head of the table, "you should just stay here tonight. Let's call it a day, have dinner, and go to bed. Try to get an early start tomorrow, after first Mass." She found herself nodding.
There it was again, more evidence that she couldn't get the paladin out of her thoughts. She was staying in enemy territory in the barest hopes of seeing the bayonet-wielding priest. Integra turned back to Maxwell as he got to his feet. "Alright, let me show you to your rooms, and you can settle in. Then I'll send a servant to fetch you when dinner is ready." In careful silence, she followed Maxwell to her room.
The rest of the night had passed in a breathless anticipation that Anderson would burst through the door at any moment. And of course, Integra was sorely disappointed. That sort of drama only happened when Alucard was around. But she couldn't stop thinking about that daydream, which had rapidly turned into real dreams that haunted her sleeping mind every chance it got.
Sighing, she rolled over in bed, the borrowed nightgown felt foreign against her skin. With a huff, she sat up in bed then slipped out from under the comforter. Her door breathed open quietly, and she crept out into the dark corridor.
If asked, Integra knew she wouldn't really have any excuse for wandering about. But it didn't stop her. Shafts of moonlight slanted through big windows, and she tried to stay out of the silver pools while she searched the cathedral for the priest who wouldn't leave her mind. She heard a creak of a floorboard behind her and turned her head, glancing down the long, empty hallway that stretched behind her. When she turned back, her heart stopped as the paladin drew himself from the shadows before her. She could see his nostrils flaring, his brows crinkling as he sniffed.
Integra tried to press closer to the wall, tried to ignore the sudden increase in her heartbeat, but that piercing gaze still caught her.
Anderson's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, and within seconds he was upon her, and nerves churned her stomach. His massive hand grasped her neck, pinning her roughly to the wall, and his face bore down on hers. He was so close she could smell the blood, the decay on his clothes, and under it the pious smell of candle smoke, sage and rosemary.
"Wha' the Hell are ye dooin' here Hellsing." His voice was a rough rumble that made her knees feel weak, her tongue loose, and all the half-concocted reasons she had come up with for wandering the halls disappeared in a heartbeat. Staring into those vibrant eyes, she felt compelled to spill all. "Looking for you," she breathed. That strong grip on her neck let her go as Anderson drew back, one of his eyebrows cocking up. "Fer meh." She felt the blush burn hard across her cheeks, but Anderson just shook his head and turned, moved to stride away from her.
For a brief second, she watched him prowl away. The moonlight caught smears of blood on his cassock, glinted off his glasses, turned him into the opposite of her dream. Here, he was real, and it made her want him all the more. She chased after him, unable to help herself. "Wait," she called softly after him. He didn't even break stride. So she chased him all through the shadowed corridors to his room. She caught him just as he went to shut the door. Gasping for breath, she leant against his door, affectively keeping him from shutting it.
"Please," she panted, "I meant it, A-Alexander." He gave her a smoldering look, and she felt a wave of passion sweep through her. "Ah didnae give ye permission tah use meh name." She couldn't help but feel a little crestfallen. She had thought that she would come here, throw herself at the paladin, and he would be unable to resist. Her lips parted while she searched her mind, trying to find some heartfelt words to endear her to the manic priest. "I…I can't stop thinking about you." She looked away from his searching gaze, "Every time I close my eyes, I see you…even in my dreams, I get no reprieve…."
A heavy sigh reached her ears and lifted her gaze to his. He looked tired, almost human. "It's just ah simple crush, Hellsing. It happens." She shook her head and tried to think of a way to get him to see the truth in her heart. She couldn't help but feel this was something at least marginally deeper than a passing fancy. Once again, Anderson sighed and drew back into his room, beckoning her in. "Well come in then. Ah would like tah get ready fer bed, and Ah can see Ah won't beh gettin' rid o' ye anytime soon." With a single step, she was in the lion's den, and her heart was beating fast in her chest.
Anderson disappeared into what she assumed was the bathroom, and she perched on his bed. Looking around, she was unsurprised by his room. It was sparsely furnished, a crucifix over the door. A candle sat on a small table with a singular chair. She could hear water running in the next room, and she tried not to think of Anderson slowly exposing his strong flesh to the night's touch. "You don't entertain much, do you" she called over the rush of water. She barely heard him chuckle, before he looked out the door. She could see the incredulous look he was giving her, but her gaze caught on his broad, bare chest, and her mouth ran dry. "Ah'm ah priest. Ah shouldnae even allow ye tah beh in here."
It took everything she had not to follow him into the bathroom, despite the door being open. Instead, she sat demurely on the perfectly made bed, staring at her bare feet and waiting for him to finish his shower.
By the time the shower shut off, her heart had slowed its hard beat, but when he emerged from the steaming room, her breath caught in her throat and her heart twisted and kicked hard and fast in her chest. Anderson dressed only in boxers was more than she could have hoped for. Stray droplets chased one another down his strong neck, his broad and chiseled chest, and his flat stomach strong with toned muscles to get lost in the waistband of his boxers.
She imaged what it would be like to slowly peel that black fabric from his body, lay him all bare…to touch him in reality instead of just her dreams. The blush raged hard across her pale cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze and shifted on the bed as passion swept through her to settle in between her legs. How she ached for him!
He padded across the room, and she was once again draw to his form. She watched the steady ripple of muscle just beneath his tawny flesh, took in the wide array of scars that stretched and smoothed across his skin, sometimes hidden by the dark blond hair that gathered across his chest, around his navel. She wanted to touch him.
Anderson threw open the window, his broad hands curling along the window sill as his upper body leant out into the cool night's touch. She could hear the deep inhale, see his strong chest expand with the breath, then relax. She let her gaze roam his back. The scars were less there, the skin smooth over strong muscles. His hips were neat, and she could just barely make out the rise of his ass. His legs were strong, covered in that golden hair, his ankles nearly delicate. And then he was turning.
Slowly, her gaze ran back up his frame, lingering once again on the front of his boxers and what she imaged was there, before slipping back up to make shamed eye contact with the paladin. He cocked an eyebrow at her again, "Yer gaze is like ah touch. Ah feel it on meh. Why're ye starin' at meh?" He prowled closer, a predator stalking his prey, and her heart was beating erratically in her chest. She quivered on his bed, blushing but unwilling to look away.
Those eyes haunted her dreams, while the dreamt man in front of her did unspeakable things to her body. She whimpered soft, unconsciously, but knew that it had been heard. Anderson's brow furrowed. "And what o' these dreams, Hellsing? Why is ah Protestant sow dreamin' of meh? Dreamin' o' the Big Bad Catholic." She looked away, "I-I…." she stammered, unable to say the words, to tell him she wanted him, before looking back into at his perceptive gaze. But his lips split over his straight white teeth, the grin becoming a slight leer. She knew he knew, had guessed.
Her gaze steeled, and she Anderson a no-nonsense look. "I think you know."
Suddenly he was on her, pressing her back into the covers. His body radiated heat, as if he had swallowed a small star. His face was close to hers, his lips just bare inches from hers. Those kissable lips curled and split over his white teeth in a leering grin. His broad hands framed open on either side of her head, and she tried to remember how to breathe.
All she could smell, feel, sense was him. He was invading her completely without even touching her. And it made her shiver.
"Oh ye wee lil' Protestant." His head cocked to the side, turning his glasses briefly into mirrors. She stared unabashed into those brilliant green eyes and gave herself over finally. Leaning up just barely, she pressed her lips to his. His lips were slightly chapped, and his stubble tugged gently at her tender skin.
Her hands quivered to touch him. Finally, she draped her arms around his neck, her fingertips digging into his shoulder blades as she tried to pull him closer. He pulled back and gave her a deep, searching look. She couldn't help but feel as though he was chastising her with that look. "Just…give me tonight please Anderson? Exorcise this damnable demon that haunts my mind."
She could see the moment he gave in, felt the gentle sag in his defensive stance. Tenderly his lips pressed against hers, and she lost her breath. She could feel his rough fingertips gently skating up her thighs, pressing her nightgown out of the way. His fingers caught on the waistband of her panties, and she felt the blush burn hard against her cheeks as he pulled them down slowly. Unthinkingly, she bit down hard on his bottom lip, tasting his blood before drawing the rapidly healing flesh into her mouth.
He bore down on her, deepening the kiss even as his hands gently eased her legs further apart; as he settled on the bed between her knees; as he pulled her knees up onto his hips. Her nails dug hard into his soft flesh drawn tight over strong muscles. She could feel the slight give, the sticky heat of his blood, the fibers of his skin stitching themselves back together.
His rough fingertips played gently along the tender skin of her belly before following the sharp cut of her hips downward. When she felt his fingers skate against her body, sending small shocks through her spine, she whimpered. Her hips shifted even as his thumb grazed her clit over and over, driving her into a maddened state of need. She needed him.
When one of his fingers bore inside of her, she nearly cried out. Her mouth shifted from his and sought solace with his neck. The strong tendons in his throat twanged under her teeth as she bit down as his fingers pressed inside of her, stretched her, filling her up and yet making her feel more empty.
"Please," she whispered against his skin. His breathing was barely rough. She was struck with how distant he was; here they were in the middle of one of the most intimate acts, and he was going about it like it meant nothing. Of course, she knew it probably meant nothing to him. To her, at that moment at least, it was everything.
She shuddered when she felt his length press against her, his hips rocking gently against her. She could feel herself get even wetter, and she blushed harder. He chuckled softly above her, "No worries lass, Ah'll beh gentle." She wanted to open her mouth to retort, but then she felt the broad tip of him pressing against her. Her body betrayed her, relaxing, letting him in. And she felt as though his heat would consume her.
He balanced on his hands, born above her like some moonlit god. His eyes were closed behind those rounded glasses; his breathing easy as his hips ebbed and flowed against hers. The pain was insurmountable, but when it gave way to pleasure it took her breath away.
Lying under him, feeling his heavy, hard body move, she was struck breathless. Little gasps and whimpers still managed to worm their way out of her chest. Her nails dug hard into his skin as she begged him softly for more, and as he continued to reject her want for more. One of his hands stole down to her hip, and he held her still while his hips flexed against hers.
The feeling of him in her was amazing. She could feel heat coiling in her stomach, tightening with each thrust. She canted her hips up to meet his, needing him more than she would have liked to admit. And with one strong thrust, she felt herself fall. Her teeth snapped down hard on his skin, her body clung to his as if she was drowning, and he continued to move.
In the pit of her stomach, a noise crawled out as that heat burst forth. She could feel the tingles everywhere. She tried to breathe and found she couldn't. He pressed tight against her, coaxing her body through the orgasm, until she finally slumped beneath him. She was painfully aware of his still hard length buried in her, unsatisfied while he was clearly bored.
Slowly, he pulled out, and she felt as though he pulled all her bones with him. She lay puddled on his bed, gasping in breath as the cool night air seemed to freeze her after the inferno that was Anderson. He found a spot near her, not touching but close. She stared at him; he stared up at the ceiling.
"Th…thank you Alexander. I hope I've driven you from my mind." Beside her, he chuckled. "Well, good luck with that, lass." The silence descended heavily, like some nameless thing. Her body ached, and she felt it everywhere as she rolled gently onto her side. She reached out to him, and he moved just barely. "Ye can't stay here. Ah'll beh in trouble an' ye won't fair much better."
With a soft sigh, she tenderly sat up on the edge of the bed. She found her panties crumpled on the floor just beneath her feet, but didn't bother putting them back on. She slipped off the bed, dipped just enough to grab the discarded article of clothing, and cast him one more look. "Thank you, truly. If you can't bear to think of it as exorcising your demon from my mind, think of it as saving me on the battle field from becoming a vampire, thought I doubt you'd leave enough of me to make a ghoul."
On the bed, she could see the soft glint of his smile. "Ah'd ne'er let ye beh changed. Ah have more respect fer ye than that, lass." She smiled, taking his words to heart as the compliment they were. Nodding, she carefully made her way across his dark bedroom and tugged open the door. She cast one more glance his way before stepping out into the hallway and closing the heavy door behind her.
She leant against the cool wood for just a brief second before pushing off and heading back toward her own room. It would be more unbecoming of a proper Protestant lady to be found wandering about the halls in just a flimsy nightgown, where anyone could happen upon her and pressure her into any unspeakable things.