DISCLAIMER: This is purely a work of fiction. I don't own Hellsing or it's characters, they are the property of Kouta Hirano. I am not profiting from writing this fan fiction.
Of Hatred & Desire
He crept through her mind, slithered under her skin and wedged himself between her and what she knew was what was left of her humanity. He blurred the edges of everything she knew, so that her world was no longer black and white; but shades of dirty gray and black.
He was trying to break her and she was afraid it was working.
Even now she could feel him burrowed deep within the recess of her mind. Now and then he'd whisper twisted little nothings; things that made her quiver; things that made her sick. She wished she could just be rid of him, wished just as badly to stay by his side.
Still caked in the blood of Freaks, she wandered though her chambers and flopped down on the bed. More than anything she needed a shower, ached for it even, but she was so tired. She'd spent much of her energy dispatching ghouls, and more even resisting that primal urge to feed. The remainder of what she had left was still trying to keep him out of her head. She'd fail of course, he was always there, always sliding along her skin like beads of sweat. Could vampires sweat?
Dismissing the thought with a growl of frustration she flung herself off the bed and toward the washroom.
Flashes of their most recent mission scurried about in her head. Vivid images of her master's gleeful expression as he tore through flesh and bone; bathing in the blood of the fallen. Visions of crimson eyes locked with her own as he fed.
It'd been a physical effort not to just give in and join in the blood lust, just let go and revel in the carnage.
Hands clutching the vanity, she looked up at her reflection.
Crimson eyes stared back at her; her skin and hair was marred with dirt and blood. Her uniform was for the most part shredded. She wondered idly why she even had a reflection. Weren't vampires not supposed to have them? sighing she tried brushing her fingers through the mess of hair but quickly realized the futility of the action.
"God, I look a fright. A bloody monster..." She murmured.
'A sight, I must agree Police Girl.' The voice boomed inside her head and with it came the notion that she'd felt it more than having actually had heard it. It was always a strange feeling. She hated it when he did this. She never knew where to direct her attention when he spoke through their link rather than face to face. It made her feel foolish which in turn irritated her.
There was a twisted intimacy about it too, and that made her uncomfortable. Not because that intimacy was entirely undesired, but because she knew it should be. Because she knew it wasn't. From one moment to the next she was never sure if she wanted to punch him in the jaw, or curl against his body like a cat. It pissed her off, but it scared her too; mostly because the latter should make her sick. That it sort of did but that fact changed nothing.
He'd startled her but she'd managed not to display it outwardly. Instead she grit her teeth, ignored their mental link and opted to correct him verbally instead. "It's Seras."
As if she'd said nothing he continued speaking in a tone that was irritatingly mirthful. 'Though this look does hold a certain appeal, does it not?'
She could swear she felt fingers brush though her hair but when she whipped around to swat at them she found nothing but air. This apparently only served to amuse him further because a low chuckle filled the room.
She was quickly loosing the will to further endure his presence, even if it wasn't a physical one. He was making her uneasy as he always did. With a growl she tried to sound firm as she spoke her next words. "What do you want? I'm busy."
His tone sobered slightly but remained somewhat amused. 'Remember who you are speaking to fledgling, I enjoy your fire, but that doesn't mean I intend to tolerate insubordination.'
Her jaw tightened as she could swear she felt his cool breath on the back of her neck. She knew nothing good would come of opposing him, her pride took a bit of a hit when she apologized. Unfortunately, not without hint of sarcasm. "Apologies my Master..."
She felt his hands close tightly over her shoulders and his body pressed against her back. She knew that this time he wasn't just a shadow or a voice in her head. He was standing solidly behind her. His voice was a slow hiss in her ear. "Tell me my dear, have you fed?"
They were both aware that the question was as much a punishment to her as it was entertaining for him. She wanted to lie to him. To tell him that she had, or that she wasn't even hungry. Almost before she could think it the painful tightening of his grip on her shoulders shredded the beginnings of the thought.
'Foolish. Do not bother lying to me. I know very well how you've spent your evening.'
She swallowed hard. His close proximity was doing horrid things to both her mind and insides. How was it possible to feel fear, disgust, and arousal all at once? Who the hell had decided that was okay? The mix of emotions had her stomach churning and her mind reeling with the injustice of it all.
In that moment she made a rash and foolish decision. She ignored the instinct to back down and instead pushed harder. "Then why did you bother asking?" Even in her own mind her voice quivered.
He leaned in closer to her ear; spoke firmly and softly. "Well, I do enjoy watching you squirm..."
She regretted her defiance almost instantly. As she felt his hand skim down her side to grip her hip, as if simply emphasizing his statement. She willed herself to be still and she could practically hear him smirk against her neck as he lowered his face to her throat.
For what felt like an eternity neither moved. His fangs hovered above her flesh and a horrible sense of dread and excitement filled her belly. Would he be gentle? Allow fer to feel that exquisite surge of ecstasy as he broke the flesh and drank deeply; to leave her drunk with sensation? Or would it be savage and ruthless? A brutal reminder of just who was the master and who the subordinate, of her pain and his pleasure?
He had given her both before and there was a part of her that had enjoyed both. That scared the crap out of her. Just what exactly had she become? What sort of creature enjoyed pain? Enjoyed the twisted combination of blood and pleasure? You had to be mad, a truly fucked up individual.
She wasn't ready to accept that as a part of herself. She refused to become what he was. Even if what he was, was something that a piece of her craved even more than the blood she needed to survive.
The panicked thoughts swirling in her mind were cut short as he swiftly sank his fangs into the juncture between her neck and shoulder. She gasped sharply and tried to jerk away, fearing what was to come. He only pulled her closer. His fingers dug sharply into her hip while his other arm came up to circle her chest and confine her arms.
Her nails tore into his forearm but he continued taking long pulls from her struggling form. Her mouth opened to formulate a scream that never quite came out. Her mind and body screamed for her submission, craved the pleasure she knew might come if she did.
Yet she feared what came after, once he'd gone back to his chambers and left her to realize what she'd allowed to happen.
He knew her fears and he didn't care. He would show her what it was to be free. To be a true Draculina. Until she understood what he'd given her and what she had the potential to become, he would take what he pleased and she would accept it.
His voice caressed her mind, willed her to submit, and God she wanted to. More than anything she wanted to let her body relax in his grip, allow him to give her what she craved. She struggled against it but now with a lot less vigor.
"Give into it Police Girl. Allow your self live..." He was a monster whispering of sweet depravities and promises of life. What the hell did he know of life? He was a goddamned vampire; an animated corpse for Christ sake!
But so was she. She was a creature born of his corruption, his blood.
He heard the thought and smirked against her flesh. 'This is the truth my little Draculina. What right do you have to deny your very Master? Am I not the one who snatched you from the jaws of unwaking death?'
"Yes but..." His words echoed in her mind making a sick sort of justified sense despite her desire to deny it. Perhaps she really could just let go? Just this once more allow the darkness to creep a little closer? Couldn't she could fight some more later? When she wasn't feeling so... so...whatever the hell this was?
Her head lolled back to allow him better access and her lips trembled. "Master, I- I..." somehow she couldn t find the strength to finish that sentence. Instead she leaned into him, silently vowing that this would be the last time.
Again she felt him smirk against her skin. They both knew that wouldn't be the case.
With her ceased movements his grip loosened. The arm that had previously been restraining her moved up so that he could reach inside the top of her uniform, roughly grasp one of her breasts.
Slowly she became vaguely aware of the hardness that had begun to press against her backside. Any previous thoughts of fighting him fled, and with their flight came a bitterness she could taste on her tongue. She knew he'd won. Though in this moment, she didn't care. Briefly she wondered why that was but the thought was fleeting.
"You should know well enough by now Police Girl, that the lust is about more than just blood... You will accept what you are." Without further warning the hand that had been groping at her chest - leaving her flesh colored from the rough treatment - swept downward to cup her sex. She jerked with the movement but no longer bothered to fight the shivers he sent through her.
The movement in the mirror across from them caught her eye. She stood staring at their reflections. Her pretty blue eyes had long since bled to red, their eyes locked in the mirror, his fangs never left her throat. Her nails were still in buried in his forearm, blood trickling from small crescent shaped wounds. Her own blood trailed down her front and over her exposed breasts.
He was right, it was easier to just go mad. "Yes Master..." He never bothered to slip his hand beneath her panties, just rubbed hard circles over her nub as he drained her.
The minutes passed, her mind clouded with a blur of need, need for so many things. Soon her hips moved on their own. The smell of blood and sex burned in her nostrils and there was fire in her belly. She was close and they both knew it.
Weakened and mad with lust, her her fangs extended and she bit down hard on her bottom lip, tasted blood. The desire to feed was as strong as the one to fuck.
As she was reaching her crest he abruptly ceased all movement; allowed her to collapse into a quivering heap on the cold floor.
Something was dropped on the floor next to her. He issued a single command. "Feed."
Dazed and confused she let her head loll back as she weakly scanned the room for his form and what had been dropped. He'd already vanished, leaving her with nothing but a blood packet and an insatiable need.
Consumed, she did not question the order or it's repercussions; simply obeyed. Her actions were purely animalistic, purely carnal, precisely everything she was afraid of becoming. She was her Master's obedient pet.
Later she would seethe, later she would rage and fester. She'd spend hours hating herself and what he'd done to her, hating him for what she was afraid he'd set free within her. She would question whether she could live forever without ever tasting such corruption again, and it would consume her.