Blood soaks her white blouse. The masonry wall, the heat and stench of nearby flame, the delicious way he runs his tongue up her neck, all familiar. She shudders at the sight of his bare hands, deftly shredding the thin fabric plastered to her chest. His long tongue lavishes her torso, rolling around her nipple, dutifully removing all traces of blood, leaving only wet heat.
The city's buildings crumble, burn in the blackness. Ghouls tear through flesh, hungry addicts. This is the backdrop of their affair, his violence a tribute. She hears none of it, only her pants and moans, the sound of his long tongue. Her hands fumble to remove her trousers, he rips the offending fabric off her body. She stares at his glorious nakedness, reflective in the light of burning fires. She grasps his erection, he growls, yanking Integra's long hair, he pulls her head back, exposing the curve of her throat to his waiting mouth.
As if she were a feather, he plucks her up. She wraps her legs around his waist, pressing her dripping flesh against his cold taut stomach. He grunts at the heat, grabbing her waist and buttocks, forcing her lower, angling her body to meet his stiffness.
"Integra..." He pushes the head of his cock into her inch by inch.
Shudders dance through her body eliciting a low moan as he slides into her more completely. Her passage stretches to accommodate him as he begins a slow thrusting, using his shadows to pluck at her flesh. This is the point of no return. No army of ghouls or city burning could separate them.
She grinds herself into him urgently, chasing a building pressure. He pulls her onto him completely and holds her there impaled, twisting. He gazes into her icy eyes, his red liquid sparkling, and he growls.
"Wake up Integra. Is this what you want?"
A scream pierces the reverie.
He slips her up the length of his long shaft, forcing her immobile, her warm passage enclosing the head of his cock. Empty, she whimpers, the cold air fingering the dark blonde hair on her labia.
"Or is this what you want?"
A scream sounds again, from a block away. Integra startled, looks for its owner.
His shadows pluck at her brown nipples, teasing them to taut pebbles. Her slippery descent is agonizingly slow, he savors her frustration. She moans his name as he buries his face into her neck. "Wake up Integra," he licks the side of her neck, running his long tongue over every inch of her willowy column until her hair stands on end.
He bites down, growling into her body with such a force, the rumbling startles her more than pain. The pain melts, a warm white sun, as he pounds into her. Her throat releases streams of rich Hellsing blood down his gullet. She rides the waves, and as her climax builds, doesn't care that he is taking her blood, doesn't think of the close screams, and the waves of ghouls flooding around the corner. All she feels is him, filling her up. Her frighteningly simple surrender.
He withdraws, and seals up her wound with a lick of his tongue.
He pins her there against the wall for a moment, she panics, thoughts chasing her retreating orgasm, he keeps his face lowered to hers, a small smile plastered there.
"Or, is this what you want, my darling Integra?"
His eyes hood, becoming predatory, and Integra notices the hordes of uniformed ghouls standing behind him, body parts dripping rotten to the earth.
"Unhand me servant!" she regains her dignity.
He drops her unceremoniously, her head smacks against the wall. She lies in the dirt, rubbing her head, she pulls her hand away to see a small amount of blood. She yelps, eyes focusing as a pair of rotted hands grab her ankles and roughly drag her nude form across the littered ground.
"Alucard?"
"Oh don't worry master, they're not hungry for flesh."
She blindly searches for his figure amongst the straining corpses, she can only make out putrid flesh, missing jaws, liquid eyes melting down gray skin. Several of the corpses are wearing what appear to be military-style uniforms. Integra gasps as she spies the Hellsing coat of arms on the shoulder of one zombie.
"These are my men!"
He laughs.
"Yesss. They're hungry for something only you can offer...Miss Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing," he draws out each syllable of her name, making it sound like a slap in the face.
The corpse that moves in front of her is naked, his testicles swollen into rotten liquid-filled sacks. They hang down brushing against the backs of her spread thighs, bouncing against her buttocks as he grasps her bent knees. She looks at his leaking gray erection, covered in open sores and she realizes what he means to do.
"Alucard!" she doesn't bother to hide her fright.
Alucard laughs deeply, "but isn't this what you want Integra? A man's touch? To lie with a man? To become a corpse like these humans?"
An oozing hand grasps her breast; a stinking mouth attached to a ghoul with no eyes, runs his displaced lower jaw on her soft flesh, drooling and sliming her chest. A third ghoul appears, rubbing his putrid brown cock over her cheeks and lips, pressing it to her hard mouth. She stifles a scream in her throat, bucking her body like a trapped prey animal as a wound on the penis gushes unidentifiable fluids across her lips.
"Always a fighter aren't you my Integra? This is only a dream, you can give in to your desires, nothing can hurt you. I won't allow it. You want to be a human, so be a human. This is the destiny you choose. I thought you'd enjoy knowing some of your human men better," she makes out dim shadows growing behind the ghoul at her knees. "You need to figure out what you want, little girl."
He exhales bloody breath over the ghoul's shoulder, all she can see is his eyes and grinning teeth, an evil incarnation of Carroll's Cheshire Cat. The pressure on her body builds as the ghouls push their ready appendages into her mouth and as she feels her pussy start to open with the push of rotten lubrication, Integra screams and wrenches up vomit as her world fades to black.
She awakes to the sound of her own scream, tears streaming down her cheeks. The stately Integra Hellsing claps her hands to her cheeks and lets out a small wail. She shrinks into the noise, microscopic and uncertain; a little girl lost in the dark dungeon, evil nipping at her heels. She touches her hair, her face, arms, legs, until she hunches in a ball; hands hug her body, eyes wide in shock. Trembling in the mess of her bed, she permits this lapse until she remembers who she is.
Fuck. Eyes closed, inhaling deeply, she expands back into her body with the breath. She feels for a cigar on the nightstand.
Her own tremoring hands try to thwart lighting the expensive cigar. The lighter's flame wavers in the air, homeless. On contact she gulps deeply. She remains hunched over the edge of her bed, one hand supporting her body through her forehead, the other flying to her lips, housing her security. The cigars smell like her father.
It's been years since his death. She moves from her bunk. Shuffling out the French doors to the balcony, she faces the starlit sky, a serene blanket over her estate. What would he say about tonight? Would he tell her to face the monsters in the dark? The monster in her dark? She wants to ask, why him? Was he really a gift, a dying father's last sentiment, reaching from beyond the grave to help his only child?
No. She exhales, a tear streams down her face. What to call it? Frightened, alone, a murderous uncle bent on killing a child. Did Arthur Hellsing plan for it? Was it merely luck she found him? He who would serve her faithfully, maddeningly.
A star bursts across the sky in a blindingly white flash, burning out as quickly as it came.
"A curse..." the words trail off her lips. The spirit of her cigar extinguished.
"I hope the sole is to your liking." Eric Dantes' voice swells to the high ceilings and patterned walls of his Surrey mansion.
"It's delicious," Integra answers from across the round table.
Eric smiles and leans toward his guest. "Excellent, Sir Hellsing, I propose we toast to new acquaintances."
She nods, "Aye, to acquaintances." Why did I agree to this? She quirks an eyebrow at the man before her and raises her glass.
"I am fortunate indeed to have such a beautiful and intelligent woman as my partner."
Integra blanches and gulps a mouthful of the white burgundy. She puts her glass down squarely. "Mr. Dantes, I'd like to discuss some terms of this mission." Her voice rings out, the only sound in the room, aside from her glass striking the table.
One corner of Dantes' lips curl up, and he motions her to begin.
She gestures to the room around her, "I am not entirely convinced this job entails full use of the Hellsing resources."
Dantes nods, "Sir Hellsing, I understand your reservations. Please know, I will make my intent clear as to why I requested your organization's services, I'm sure you understand it's only a matter of time before my home appears a less tranquil picture."
"Hmm."
"Additionally, I will provide ample funding to receive the full protection of your services, all up front if necessary. Money is of no object to me. "
She sits unblinking.
"I understand you wish to keep your top agents close at hand, especially when holding a position such as yours. However, given the current peace surrounding your home and the English countryside, there is no doubt that Alucard's constant proximity to you at this point is excessive. I do have need of him here. However if you cannot be without his protection, it is my wish you would stay here as long as you'd like," his smile is pearly in the dappled sunlight.
She hisses a sharp intake of breath. "Thank you Mr. Dantes, but I will be the judge of my own person."
Dantes shoulders rise with his chuckle.
"By no means did I imply that you are unable to take care of yourself. You are a most capable and exquisite woman."
One hand on the table, she feels for her cross pendant. "Does your tongue seek a customer, Mr. Dantes?" A faint blush creeps into her cheeks when she feels his palm over her hand.
"I am nothing if not honest Miss Hellsing," he smiles.
Integra removes her hand and folds her fingers under her chin. "Michard mentioned using agents of the Vatican if we refused your offer. What is your connection to Enrico Maxwell, Mr. Dantes?"
Distaste flashes over his features, and Eric offers open palms in supplication. "Please, call me Eric, and happily none. As your organization is the best at what you do, I also have access to some of the finest services money can offer." He looks down, " please forgive me if it offends your sensibilities."
"No," she shakes her head. "I am relieved you are at least thorough."
"Sir Hellsing, it is no secret there is little love lost between you and Enrico Maxwell."
She chuckles meeting his smile with one of her own. "So you used my organization's obvious dissonance with that pig Maxwell to motivate us to your cause? Very underhanded of you Mr. Dantes."
His jaw hardens. "Only the finest."
She considers him a moment and fishes a cigar from her breast pocket.
"Allow me," he produces a gold lighter.
Integra inhales deeply and relaxes into the warmth of the cushioned chair, eyes taking in the bright afternoon. They sit in companionable silence.
"This day reminds me of one long ago." Dantes gazes across the acres of grass. "The day I came into possession of what needs such attention. Life for me before that day was much simpler."
She exhales, recalling her own life-changing day years past, not in the summer's dappled sunshine, but in the dank and musty basement of her family's manor.
His voice slides into her thoughts, "Perhaps we have more in common than I thought, Ms. Hellsing."
I doubt it. But, I am here...
They lock eyes. She corrects him. "You may call me Integra."
His smile is small, but it touches his eyes, "...Integra." Reaching toward his guest, Dantes grasps a single grape from the bunch housed between them. He squeezes it between gloved fingers. It trembles in its thin skin.
"Integra, allow me to acquaint you with what is so valuable that only your organization's protective resources will suffice. I must insist on your absolute secrecy in what I am about to show you. I trust your reputation and you as my partner. There is no other." His fingers continue to squeeze down on the gelatinous orb, until the grape bursts forth from its skin.
"Show me."