Characters are (c) Kouta Hirano. Without his perversely brilliant mind, there would be no Hellsing. Which would make me a saaaaad panda.
--
The crisp deep vermillion wrapper gleams invitingly, drawing his gaze as he tries to continue with his work. He has no clue how it got there, or indeed, what it could be, only that it appears to be a sweet of some description.
A glance to the clock, and the soft scritch scritch scritch of his fountain pen against the white paper, unmarked by lines, but decorated with a shining red ink that flows from the plastic casing like blood.
A deep, suffering sigh, and a large, warm hand picks up the small object with a grace unusual for a swordsman's fingers, cradling it in his palm. Carefully, that crisp, deep vermillion wrapper is peeled back revealing a smooth, flawless shell of dark brown, the surface seeming to flicker in the dappled light.
His breath catches softly. The sweet is a true work of art, and it seems almost a shame to waste such beauty, but a soft pink tongue darts out to moisten its owner's lips, and he lifts the object to his mouth with purpose, that same pink tongue darting out to taste the surface of the candy.
The taste is unmistakable as the bitter-sweet one of dark chocolate, a subtle blend, but one that he is not unfamiliar with, and upon deciding that there is no immediate danger in the little chocolate, he slowly bites into it, his eyes drifting shut briefly, a quiet moan escaping him that could only be described as borderline sinful, that should not be heard from surprisingly soft pink lips, as unexpected as the sun in the night.
Before he can blink, there is a form pressed against him, pushing him back, wrapped in a crisp, deep vermillion coat.
A glance to the clock, and his soft breathing, unsteady and shocked, decorated with an aura of innocence that flows from him like waves.
A hot, stinging kiss, a dark chuckle and he is alone once again, left with the taste of blood and chocolate.
--
Reviews are greatly appreciated!