Title: It
Author: BLK
Started: March 22nd, 2003 Ended: March 22nd, 2003
Series: Hellsing
Pair: Alucard x Integra
*
It's madness. It's horror. It's insanity. It's wonderful.
His body is a great metal-fanged trap set to rip and rend the helpless prey he toys with, and as much as I know this and as much as I've seen this I can't stop. The sensation is like a guilded hook that has impaled my heart, and it tugs towards his shadowy form, snapping arteries and dreams in its wrenching, rending strength.
When we touch, it's like an inferno, and I want to admit that it chills me through to the bones. He looks at me, and I shiver inside, frozen cold, unable to breathe.
I'm mad. I'm horrified. I'm insane. I feel wonderful.
I hate him so much, and I want him to touch me and tear me and rip me apart, I love him so much. I've seen the trap snap shut and crush a thousand before me, and yet I am the fox who always thought herself smarter, strolling right into the jaws of the Beast, wanting that sick snap and that brink of destruction.
When we touch, it's like ice water, and I try to deny how it makes me burn inside. He looks at me, and I feel everything in by body twist and melt, tug and rip.
Dead madness. Dead horror. Dead insanity. Deadly wonderful.
When I touch him, will cold flesh ripple beneath the confines of darkness and blood fabric, or will a thousand eyes snap open and greet a hand that sinks into their midst? I fear both, I desire both, I hate myself, I hate him, I love him. I know better, don't I? Sly fox coiled-up in the snow, bleeding and crying, blood staining purity and metal fangs slipping ever deeper.
When we touch, I get too close to breaking. When we touch, I may just die . . . Destruction in Fire or in Ice, I don't believe in those. Destruction in Love is true Armageddon.
END
*
It's madness. It's horror. It's insanity. It's wonderful.
His body is a great metal-fanged trap set to rip and rend the helpless prey he toys with, and as much as I know this and as much as I've seen this I can't stop. The sensation is like a guilded hook that has impaled my heart, and it tugs towards his shadowy form, snapping arteries and dreams in its wrenching, rending strength.
When we touch, it's like an inferno, and I want to admit that it chills me through to the bones. He looks at me, and I shiver inside, frozen cold, unable to breathe.
I'm mad. I'm horrified. I'm insane. I feel wonderful.
I hate him so much, and I want him to touch me and tear me and rip me apart, I love him so much. I've seen the trap snap shut and crush a thousand before me, and yet I am the fox who always thought herself smarter, strolling right into the jaws of the Beast, wanting that sick snap and that brink of destruction.
When we touch, it's like ice water, and I try to deny how it makes me burn inside. He looks at me, and I feel everything in by body twist and melt, tug and rip.
Dead madness. Dead horror. Dead insanity. Deadly wonderful.
When I touch him, will cold flesh ripple beneath the confines of darkness and blood fabric, or will a thousand eyes snap open and greet a hand that sinks into their midst? I fear both, I desire both, I hate myself, I hate him, I love him. I know better, don't I? Sly fox coiled-up in the snow, bleeding and crying, blood staining purity and metal fangs slipping ever deeper.
When we touch, I get too close to breaking. When we touch, I may just die . . . Destruction in Fire or in Ice, I don't believe in those. Destruction in Love is true Armageddon.
END