Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.
Sometimes….
Alucard tested the straps on his wrists and ankles, hissing with a sort of pained amusement when the sigils on the buckles glowed red to dissuade the test.
…sometimes a cigar is a phallic symbol.
Integra took the cigar from her lips and slowly exhaled, fragrant smoke filling the silent laboratory while Alucard watched. Every sense was focused on the woman.
Alucard was always aware of Integra. From the day she had wakened his from his twenty-year slumber, the vampire had always been aware of her – her scent, her heartbeat, the rustle of her clothes were with him.
Tonight though he needed this awareness of her to block out the crawling sensation of the latest alchemical formula creeping through his veins. Without the benefit of a heartbeat to move his blood and the transformative formula that had been injected into it, the experimental formula brought its change with almost maddening slowness.
"What can you tell me?" Integra leaned in, the cigar scent carried on her breath with her question.
"I can tell you that I want to touch you," Alucard murmured barely above a whisper to draw her in, to make her lean closer to hear.
He felt emboldened by the situation, having given himself into her hands for this experiment. Being owned this way carried a reciprocal sense of ownership. It didn't have to make sense by human standards – it just was.
Integra's lips twitched upward in the beginnings of a smirk. "Tell me something new instead, Alucard."
"I can feel the effects. It's spreading."
"How far?" Her hand brushed his throat where she had injected the fluid. There was still a spot of blood there where he was only slowly healing the puncture the silver needle had made.
"Here?" Her fingers drifted down to the hollow of his throat.
Alucard nodded, eyes flaring red in response to the warmth of a living touch on dead skin.
"Here?" Her fingers passed lower, trailing heat down his bare chest.
Alucard craned his neck to watch, shifting as much as his bonds would permit, straining upward to encourage a firmer touch – less taunting.
"Lower, Master," he whispered. "It has such an effect. No pain, only heat."
The hint of a smirk grew to a full-fledged mocking smile. "Then my servant has no need of his master's heat."
To belie the words, her hand brushed the edge of his pubic hair.
Alucard's lids dropped closed for a moment while he forgot everything in the moment. Her touch came so rarely – a gift she rationed like the rare drops of virgin blood she shared to keep him attached, to keep him fascinated, to keep him eternally, optimistically loyal. Alucard savored this intimacy before he opened his eyes to let his master see the naked need there.
"Please."
"Please…" she repeated, seeming to turn the word over, contemplating the plea.
"Please touch you, servant?" Her fingertips barely brushed the head of his penis.
"Please pleasure you?" The touch grew firmer.
"Please grant you release?" Her hand moved away from his groin to his straps. "Shall I release you?"
The vampire writhed and shook his head vehemently. "Please, no."