Bizarre Love Triangle
Bit of a warning for those of you who think I may be veering towards an E X I idea-have no fear- the lady is an accomplished actress and will do a fabulous job of fooling him...
"There's a fine line between love and illusion"- Rush
She was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. While the dress covered her person from collarbone to ankle, it clung to every curve gracefully, like a deep pool of marine water, rippling and shifting with each movement. Long hair caressed firm shoulders, and brushed against the small of her back in thick waves, smelling like ivy and clover- she was springtime, Prima Vera , warming the mid-winter chill. She moved like a tigress through tall grass- elegant, powerful, and predatory. An inviting smile played on her lips and she held two goblets filled to the brim. The fireplace crackled in the background and the soft, almost dream-like strains of "Moonlit Sonata" drifted.
"Here," she offered, handing off the cup,"It's sweet, very sweet." The Arch Bishop began to slowly sip the sherry when she sat next to him, brushing her body against his. It was enough to make him almost choke on his drink, but his calm demeanor stayed in tact, just barely camouflaging the heat mounting in his blood.
"Sorry, but the divan's a bit small..." she stated. Integra slipped an arm around his shoulder and Maxwell could not help but grin. Casually, she sipped her drink and savoured the taste.
"I thought that you did not care for sweet things.," he commented.
"Tastes change-shouldn't one be open to new experiences?" Light fingers danced against the curve of his neck.
"Absolutely...", he murmured and went to kiss her lips. A slight turn caused him catch the corner of her mouth instead.
"Finish your drink first, dear, there will be plenty of time for that later." The Arch Bishop's free hand began to snake around Sir Hellsing's waist, enjoying the sensation of firm muscles and rich velvet.
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you look tonight?," he asked. Coyly, the woman angled her head . "You look like a Raphael Madonna." His long fingers curled under her chin and pulled his face up to meet his. "You can be a most lovely, charming creature, Integra.," Slowly, her fingers inched up his torso-not so much out of amore, but to see if the charm was hidden in the upper pockets of his vest. A full palm squeezed his chest before sliding towards to his hair, loosening its bindings. The young man purred, overjoyed at the amount of affection his beloved was showering upon him. As Sir Hellsing ran through his locks, Enrico finished off his cup.
"Here, let me pour you a bit more.," she stated as the liquor flowed freely.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?," She cocked an eye brow mischievously.
"Of course, how else can I have my way with you..." The Bishop shifted the glass away and drew her in.
"I really don't think that will be necessary...", he breathed, and kissed her fully on the mouth.
Elsewhere-
While the concert was a roaring success, Father Anderson's mind was still heavy with thoughts about his superior's actions. Maxwell had been nowhere to be seen since the intermission, disappearing upstairs, rumoured to be with the Protestant Knight herself. He could not worry about what was currently going on, bur he needed to take this borrowed time to do some business. As he made his way from complimenting guests and by-standers, a small tug was felt at his side.
"Father, where are you going?," a little voice asked. He looked down into the inquisitive gaze of Marguerite , still in her choir robe. "You're not gonna disappear like Sister Mary-Anna and Paul, are you?" He patted the child's head and began to crouch down so that his eyes could meet her level.
"No, no, don't ya worry yourself none- I'm just goin' ta get you and yer friends some early Christmas presents. I need ya ta stay here with yer schoolmates Maggie, understand?" The child nodded excitedly. He rose and wagged a finger at her. "Remember, no peaking." With that, the priest made his way down the hallway to the Arch Bishop's office . Cautiously, he surveyed the space, eyes darting to and fro to see if any guards were posted. The coast seemed clear, and he progressed silently to the door. He checked the knob, jiggling it to the left-locked. Anderson rounded the corner to his right and went to the huge, potted aloe plant , digging through its leaves. A small, brass key was embedded in the dirt. He took it and opened the lock, bridging the door. He entered the room slowly; the first thing that hit him was a mildly foul stench that reminded him of the drunk man of a week or so prior. A thick, cloying scent of disinfectant attempted to mask it, but only made it worse. He ignored the smell as best as he could, using only the thin ray of light to guide him deeper in. Father Anderson flicked on the desk lamp only to be met by a rather nasty shock. In the dim light, he could make out the silhouette of a man slumped on the couch in the back of the room. Dammit- was it a guard? He moved closer, hands clenched, ready to fight if he had to.
"Hallo?", he stated as he progressed closer, the stink growing stronger. The figure stirred slightly, shifting, standing upright with a definite slump in its shape. A prickling sensation ran up the back of Anderson's neck- whatever this was, it was not natural. A low moan emanated from the 'man', and he shambled his way out into the light.
"Father Lumi ?!," the Priest cried in shock- it was the fellow priest, but my God, what had happened to him!? His face was a pallid, half-rotted mess, chunks of skin dangling off like cheesecloth stretched over muscle. His eyes were milky marbles in sunken sockets, and his mouth was twisted into a shape of pain. A thick collar bound his neck and a chain tethered him to the radiator in the farthest corner of the room. The creature let out a strangled cry and lurched towards him, arms poised in a striking gesture.
"Mother of God-what the Hell happened to ya?," The creature wasn't dead- not fully , anyhow, and he was not a ghoul This looked more like what used to be termed "Island Possession" back in the bad, old days. He had to restrain the zombie, but not kill it; after all, underneath all that rot was still a Man of God.
"Easy does it man," Anderson calmed," I just want ta get ya out of here, let's just-" his sentence was cut off with a pair of ragged hands tearing at his face. The paladin side-stepped the attack, leaving him with only a mere scape on his cheek. Again, the creature tore at his face and robes clenching a wad of material between his fingers. This closeness was exactly what Alexander needed though. He battered his forehead against the fiend's own, as a dull crunch pierced the air. A harsh knee impacted with the gut and the creature winced. The priest was just getting warmed up.
"Lights out!," he snarled and punched the 'man' squarely in the temple, making him reel backwards and to the floor. Anderson stood over him for a moment to see if the zombie would rise, it didn't. He huffed and brushed his shirt and coat clean-the foul thing had shed all of its dead, grey skin all over the front of his clothes.
"Bloody faking zombies, vampires an' Protestants..." he cursed as he went through some of the papers on the desk , selecting a few from the folders, "If this makes me late for pickin' up the kids' gifts, I'm goin' ta get really angry..."
Elsewhere-
Nearly two-dozen candles blazed in the boudoir, casting a shimmering glow against the walls. The delicate scent of lavender and ivy wafted through the place. A trail of clothes led into the bedroom stopping at the foot of a great, four-poster canopy bed, decked in crimson and ivory satin. Soft sighs and groans could be heard from beneath the bedclothes and a sharp cry burst forth.
"Ouch! That was my hair!" Integra protested.
"Sorry, come here my Ciccolina..." The woman sat up, a look of controlled rage contorting her face, but the Hellsing Heir bit her lip to hide it. She was still dressed, her long frock, unzipped almost fully in the back, but so far she had managed to keep Enrico's determined hands from de-robing her completely. Meanwhile, his jacket, vest, and shirt lay sprawled on the floor, along with another two bottles of finished wine. The Bishop cuddled up and began whispering the most lovely, yet obscene phrases in Italian to her. Integra blushed, not fully sure of their exact meaning, but she got the hint. The coupled spooned for a moment, Maxwell taking full advantage of the exposed flesh. He trailed kisses down her bare back, attempting to pull the dress from her shoulders. The wet tip of his tongue flicked over the series of ridged scars that marred her skin, like ribbons of cream through coffee. Hands slipped over her rib cage and cupped her breasts, fingertips maneuvering through the velvet. Heat flushed on the woman's cheeks. It was things like this that still struck a small spark in her.
"Damn hormones!", she mentally cursed; while her spirit was dead against any interaction with this man, her body still recognized pleasure. Thank God his own , inebriated behaviour discouraged any further actions. He kissed her shoulders before licking her neck- yuck! Lord, it was like being romanced by a Labrador Retriever !
"I love youuu.," he slurred, "So very, verrry much...I'll make you happy , you'll see..." he professed, pecking her nose, and shifting on top of his fiancee. The only area that she had not checked on his person with either the front or back pockets of his pants- the very thought of touching him below the belt was disturbing, but it would be easier to frisk now and pass it off as a grope rather than to attempt to do it once he had passed out and he could potentially wake up enraged. Nervously, Sir Hellsing ran her hands over his hips and attempted to delve into the front, right hand pocket- nothing was present She tried the left, when her paramour let out a deep, lusty growl . Enrico grabbed her hand, and pushed it downwards across his underbelly.
"So timid, here, let me guide you." he began to press her palm over his pelvis, grazing hard flesh, when she pulled away in shock. Her startled eyes met his, and for a moment , his licentious gaze softened. Her hand was trembling.
"Poor thing, you've never touched a man like that before, have you?" he whispered It was if his eyes saw straight through her sultry ruse.
"No, no I haven't." she spoke truthfully. Gently, the Bishop kissed her forehead, cheeks, and lips. It was a sweet, respectful gesture, almost out of place. She could taste the sherry in his mouth and felt his fingers caress her chin, dipping down to her neck and clavicle
"You are indeed a noble woman," he began. There was no sarcasm in his voice, no malice. "For such a long time, I was afraid you would attempt to take control of my organization, or do whatever you could to belittle me...I see now who you truly are, a decent girl..." Hands began to caress her breasts with tender, loving strokes. A gasp caught in Integra's throat- she could not be lulled by sweet words or seductive actions.
"I've had so few people care for me, I've always been alone... Now, I have you." he began to suckle and lick her neck like a greedy child. The woman closed her eyes and was transported by his touch. " It's always been so cold, but you do have a warm, warm heart..." he professed. Slowly, Enrico peeled away the velvet and lapped against the smoothness of her skin. Her iron-clad resolve crumbled under the wetness of his tongue across her nipples, and she felt herself grow limp. After what seemed to be an eternity, he gingerly covered her torso, kissed her, and pillowed his head over her heart.
"So warm..." he whispered. For just a brief, impossible moment, a bit of sympathy for the devil was struck, as Integra petted his hair and let the man drift off into a peaceful sleep . The rich wine knocked him out and after a few moments, the scene turned from a tender moment to tactics. Enrico's body became dead weight and a thin web of spittle began to leak from his lips.
"Oh gross!," Sir Hellsing exclaimed as she attempted to get the sleeping man off of her. The more she pushed, the deeper he snuggled into her bosom.
"Lord, why does everyone like to use me as a pillow ?!," she complained. Finally, with a twist, she freed herself. Maxwell hit the coverlet with a thud, and continued his nap. Integra readjusted herself and re-zipped the dress. Much to her embarrassment, her arousal still peaked. She blushed and smoothed the front of her dress, reminding herself that this was duty, she was still very much the Iron Maiden, and if her vampire ever caught wind of such tactics performed here tonight, he would never let her live it down. "Not to mention he would probably go the extra length to show that he was much, much more satisfying..." a husky, little voice interjected. Integra scowled- bloody, bloody, hormones! If she survived all this, she was in store for either a very cold shower, or rutting her servant raw on the bedroom floor when they got back to England.
After her mental debate, she crept over to the night stand to continue her search for the talisman. She opened the top drawer quietly, finding nothing but a few, standard medals of Saints, a pearl Rosary, and two Bibles-nothing out of the ordinary. The bottom drawer was quite the opposite; various straps of leather, a pair of fur-lined hand-cuffs, silk bindings, a rather sharp, angled knife, and two small whips. A black box caught her attention, but as Integra examined it, the case spilled open, revealing the contents- little squares proclaiming " Grande, Lubricate" She cocked a brow.
"I thought the Church looked down on such 'Artificial Means' ", she scoffed, placing the foiled pieces back in their box and closing the wicked drawer. It least he wasn't spawning little beasts all over Europe- that was a comforting consolation. Her attention turned to the pile of clothes sprawling over the floor. She had checked his vest pockets, but not the coat. She dove into the long, black jacket and fingered the left and right front pockets. She felt something in the left, but the pouch was empty. The object was there, but in the lining. Quickly, she tore it out, the satin ripping away allowing her to pull out a small, leather pouch. Sir Hellsing opened it slightly to reveal a glass, rosary-like object, but instead of a Cross , a jagged piece of glass hung from the bottom. Also, several of the beads were missing. A soft grumble came from the bed as Maxwell shifted in his sleep. He gurgled something incoherent and pulled the covers over. Integra carefully wrapped the charm around her wrist and took one of the top-shelf rosaries, replacing it inside the leather holder. She tucked the pouch back in, folding the ripped lining inwards, hoping that this decoy would suffice for now. Silently, she made her way out of the bedroom, praying for the Arch Bishop to sleep soundly until tomorrow.
If you've read "Monsters Under the Bed.," Seras unwittingly falls asleep on top of her Mistress, pillowing herself against her chest. While she may not be as endowed as her servant, Integra is apparently quite comfy... :)