A/N: Ahhh! The first lime! Watch out people, it's here, it's queer and it's a little early really, but it's okay, because I can work this in, no problems ;) Just ask my vodka bottle, it'll tell you!

Anyway, please enjoy this latest installment.

The Poisoned Drink.

"Join me…" He purred across the silence in between them and she froze in the doorway. She was only here to deliver his meal and then she was planning on going to bed, curling up with a good book – perhaps Ann Rice's Interview With A Vampire – and having an early evening to herself. Entering her master's abode for more than a few seconds was not part of her plan, she was even already dressed in her silk nighty!

"Dine with me…" he purred again, the sound almost a growl, putting fire in her blood as it reached across the room to her ears.

"I didn't plan-"

"Come and feed with me, Police Girl."

Her eyebrow twitched and she entered the room despite herself. Nobody else called her 'Police Girl' anymore, only him and she had even managed to ditch the name 'Kitten' thanks to the attitude she had adopted. Any use of either nick-name felt like a challenge to her authority and strength nowadays, especially from him and she was unable to help herself, but to respond.

She brought the ice-bucket with her as she crossed the room, making sure not to make any sound, be as quiet as she could. He was sat in his usual spot, on his throne and she placed the bucket on the table beside him.

"Take one." He said, gesturing a hand to the bucket. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion – he had never requested her to 'dine' with him before – but reached a hand into the bucket anyway and pulled out a packet.

He followed suit and picked up one of the wine glasses that was also sat, already ready, on the table. He offered it to her.

"No thanks," She replied, the packet already on its way to her mouth, "I'll take mine from the bag."

Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow as he sliced the packet open on the side of the glass and allowed the contents to spill into the vessel. He had expected her eating methods to be more refined – he knew the rest of her behaviour had certainly taken more of a turn toward the sophisticated and the dignified – but she simply stuck the packet in her mouth and chowed down. Her blood was finished within seconds, while he was merely swilling his.

She tossed the empty packet back in the bucket and turned around to leave, but a chair arrived suddenly out of the gloom and scooped her up, spinning her back around and trapping her so her knees were in between those of her Master. She raised her eyebrow again and he held out another packet. Did he want her to drink the whole bucket worth? Granted there were only 6 bags in there, but he had yet to take even a single sip of what was in his glass and she would be drunk and game for anything by bag number 4. If she made it to the fifth one… Well Lord alone knew what would happen.

The last time she had been blood drunk, she had had to be tranquilized with enough ketamine to take out a charging bull elephant and that was after she'd run herself ragged taking out a brothel's worth of vampire prozzies… She would hate to see Sir Integra's face if that sort of behaviour was running riot in the old lady's basement…

She took the packet anyway and stuck her teeth in it, but she was going to take her time with this one. No chugging her food, no knocking them back, no getting drunk. She was going to bide her time, stay for a little while, maybe until bag three, hopefully encourage him to drink the rest, and then she was going to totter back to her chambers and sleep it all off, hoping to all things satanic and deadly that she didn't wake up with the mother of all headaches the next morning.

"Do you like the blood, Police Girl?" His smooth, low, almost sultry voice pulled her back into the room and away from her thoughts. She grit her teeth against the lure of the name and kept her cool, sipping slowly at her food and nodding slightly.

"You're not drinking very much." He mused, finally taking a sip of his drink. The blood coloured his pale lips red, but then his tongue swiped the lot clean and she was presented with a close lipped smile. Suspicious.

"I was about to go to bed." She explained, unfastening her teeth from her bag long enough to speak, then refastening them again to avoid having to say anything else.

"With another Vampire book." There was humour in his voice and an almost twinkle in his eyes. His eyes never really twinkled, they only ever smouldered, like burning embers… Still hot from the coals of hell itself…

She shrugged, there was nothing wrong with her reading vampire books, she was a vampire herself after all.

"Then you should know that most of it is lies."

"I don't care if it's lies or not, you've never taught me anything about being a vampire. I've had to teach myself everything."

"Like how we melt in sunlight, or glitter like diamonds?"

"No, that's a bunch of shit. All I've got from the sunlight was the nastiest case of sunstroke and a missing 16 hours of sleep."

He laughed, the level of smouldering going on in his eyes reaching tantalising levels. "I'm glad to hear you say that, but really, Ann Rice thought we died in sunlight."

"I know, I've read The Vampire Lestat before, and Interview with a Vampire."

"Then why read it again?"

She shrugged, tossing her now empty packet back in the bucket to join the first and scooping up a new blood bag. "I like the literature. She writes in a very nice way."

"It's pleasing, isn't it…" He was back on the purring thing and his eyes were beginning to slide shut. He was obviously comfortable with his situation. "I always liked the woman… Although she would believe anything…"

Seras paused in her feeding, considering his words for a minute. Believe anything? Did he know her personally? Did he tell her anything about vampires? Was he the vampire she interviewed?

His lips cracked open to reveal a row of sharp teeth and the grin told her everything she needed to know. She huffed. "So you're the reason I keep getting stabbed with stakes and have people throwing garlic at me."

"You've actually been staked?" He sounded surprised, although his eyes were now closed and the infuriating smouldering was, for now at least, hidden behind thick black lashes and bone white eyelids.

"Twice." She grumbled and he chuckled. "It's not funny!" She whined, although the sound of him laughing was honestly good for her heart. There wasn't enough laughter in this gloomy dungeon. Not since Walter…

"The garlic had nothing to do with me." He said with a smile. "I don't know where that came from."

"Well," She growled, "It wasn't very pleasant. I was sick all over the place and while it didn't kill me, having three bulbs of unpeeled garlic shoved up my nose… Anyone would be lucky not to choke to death on that!"

He let out a bark of laughter and brought his glass up to his lips for another sip. Before she knew it, Seras had been through her third bag and this empty packet joined the others with a guilty air. He however had taken, at most, three sips from his glass.

"I think," She stood up and wobbled a bit, "That I should go."

His eyes opened slowly as she struggled to get around his knees and she blinked stupidly at him, the smouldering eyes and the words that passed his lips rendering her immobile. "Stay here today…"

Stay? Like… All day? With him? "But I'm tired."

"My coffin is big enough."

Now it was her turn to laugh, the sound filling the otherwise empty dungeon, but being devoid of all warmth. "I'm not sharing with you!"

"There's no need to be afraid, Police Girl."

"I'm not afraid!"

Another smile graced his lips, one that said he didn't believe her for even a minute. One that said she was afraid, not of him, but of what she might do if surrounded by everything that made him him.

"I'm not afraid." She insisted, but he could see quite clearly the red tint across her cheeks that said she had drunk too much and wasn't really feeling herself. He gestured to her chair.

"Then stay."

Her bottom hit the seat with a thud and she stared sullenly as he took up another blood bag and offered it to her. She swiped it from his clutches with a surly expression and he swilled his drink gently as she bit into her food.

"But it wazzn't my fault." Seras mumbled, picking at her fourth empty blood bag and glowering. "How wuz I zuppozed to know there wuz a wall there? I didn't mean to knock her head ovv…"

"It was just a happy coincidence." Alucard said happily. He was quite enjoying himself. Around half way through the fourth bag his little bird had asked him how many people he'd ever decapitated. He said he couldn't remember. She said she couldn't either and then along came this long list of gruesome kills she had committed. He really was pleased she had accepted his invitation to stay a while longer. So much darkness was coming out of the woodwork… He felt like a kid at Christmas; her mind, while the drink had rendered her incapable of defending herself, had left her mind wide open. And he intended to take all the liberties he could.

This was a chipped vampire, she could feel the little bumps on the back of their neck, just brushing against her fingertips. The blue eyes stared at her, disbelief colouring them and an attempt at a word was made, but only a gargle escaped around her hand. She tore her first from the oesophagus and blood erupted from the wound, shooting like a geyser towards her and covering her lips, chin and throat in red.

The vampire fell to the floor and began to bleed out, the eyes rolling in their head as blood dripped from Seras' fingertips. This was safe to drink, this vampire was only half real; she raised her index finger to her mouth and began sucking the blood from it…

"Why are you doing this?!" The questions were all the same. 'Why are you doing this?'; 'who are you?'; 'why won't you help me?'. She stepped over the fallen vampire and walked towards the humans cowering in the corner. She wrinkled her nose, there was enough piss steaming in the road to curdle her appetite and the blood that squirted in jets from the stump of the vampire's missing leg was beginning to mix with it. They ran together and mingled, creating a powerful and gut wrenching odour.

"Oiy!" The vampire called as she approached his food.

"I'm doing this," She turned around to look at him, hefting Harkonnen over her shoulder, "Because you are scum." He looked confused. "You prey on the living, take lives that don't belong to you. You turn little children-" his eyes flicked to the small body laying crumpled on the ground "-into shuffling piles of dead flesh. You are not a vampire that can be left alone to walk the world of the living. The No Life King will judge you in hell."

"No Life…"

"And he will find you lacking."

"Who are you?"

"His emissary."

"Tick, tock, tick, tock…" The voice echoed around the large and deserted hall, lending an ethereal glow to the evening. The glass cases of the museum were already streaked in blood and the bodies of several uniformed security guards were piled by the elevator. By the looks of things, this mission wouldn't take long, but Seras could still hear hurried footsteps somewhere upstairs. They belonged to someone different from the voice.

She walked to the elevator and pushed the button for it to come, waiting patiently and calculating from the distance of the noise that she would have to go to the seventh floor to reach the running person in time. The elevator arrived and she got in.

The lift music on the way up was excruciatingly painful, but it didn't last long and soon she arrived on the seventh floor. She heard, as she exited the elevator, the clang of a metal door bouncing off a wall and the footsteps were getting further away again, going up still. She knew immediately what was happening; the human was going up, trying to get to the roof. She took off at a run towards the stairs that would lead her to the roof and, upon reaching the stairwell, pushed off the banisters and shot up the middle of the stairwell. Harkonnen was strapped to her back so she wasn't as swift or graceful as she would have liked, but she made it to the top of the stairs before the human did – he was only a faintly blue coloured blur in the darkness as she passed – and exited onto the roof, leaping up to the small, three meter square roof that housed the stair well.

The footsteps on the stairs slowed to a halt as they approached the open roof door, but a head appeared around the lip, peering tentatively out into the night. The fear was rolling off them in waves, permeating the air and it had Seras' head swimming within seconds. It was the same heady, giddy feeling she had got when Pip had kissed her…

Too scared to stay inside, the human emerged from the doorway and crept into the night, looking around to make sure nothing else was out there, that the coast was clear and his life was not yet done. While he was edging ever further away from the doorway another set of footsteps, so quiet that Seras herself nearly missed them, sounded on the stairs. She readied Harkonnen and crept up to the edge of her roof, pointing her weapon straight down.

The figure appeared at the doorway and Harkonnen's rocket split them from head to toe. The deafening explosion that met the otherwise silent night was countered perfectly by the quiet peeling sound that followed, juxtaposing it in the darkness. The remaining threads of tissue unstuck themselves from one another and the two half-vampire pieces keeled over onto the roof.

The screams were quick to follow.

Ripping, tearing flesh. The bubble and pop of cartilage separating from itself. The cries of all present as the neck was cleft from the shoulders and fell, to bounce once, twice upon the floor. Seras' booted feet squeaked on the floor as she turned away, the body collapsing forward past her shoulder, and faced the room at large. They looked on in horror as she raised her arms – her right arm bloody from where she had sent it through the first man's neck – and smiled at them. Tonight was going to be fun.

"I juz wanted to dizdragd myzelv." She slurred, leaning forward and dropping her empty packet in the bucket. The motion was apparently too much for her though because she overbalanced and tipped herself into her Master's lap. He nearly smiled at the amusing manner in which she flailed when she fell, but instead spat a mouthful of blood across her back when she put a hand down on his crotch.

She apparently hadn't noticed the blood on her back, but she noticed the noise and the look on his face, wide-eyed and a bit uncomfortable. She looked down at her hand – planted firmly in his private area – and blinked at it, before looking back at him with a slightly mischievous look on her face. He swallowed, wondering just what it was that she was planning on doing.

She opened her hand – previously fisted – and pressed her palm down. He raised his glass to his lips with a raise of his eyebrow and she pressed a little more before alleviating the pressure. He didn't react very much at all, but then again she didn't really know what she was doing. She looked down again at her hand. What was she doing exactly?

He smiled at the top of her head. She didn't know what to do with it, did she? But of course she wouldn't, that silly Frenchman hadn't gotten around to teaching her that much. It would be up to him to teach his fledgling the pleasures of the flesh. But now?

"Do you want me to help you, Police Girl?" He purred above her head and she nodded. Some help would be a good idea.

He raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised at her affirmation – but then why should he? A lot had changed while he'd been away – and put his glass down on the table before taking hold of her legs and adjusting her so she fell better across his lap. She let out a small sigh as her thighs fell either side of his and he pulled them flush against one another.

"Put your hands on my shoulders." He told her, waiting patiently for her to settle her palms on his shoulders, the nails of her fingers already beginning to bite half-moons into his coat. Gently he sunk his fingers into her hair and urged her head back. It fell back without resistance. Perhaps she was a little too drunk for this. Nevertheless he pulled her up to him so her breasts were brushing his chest and he had unfettered access to her neck.

She thought, as soft, cold kisses began to land upon her collarbones, that this wasn't what she thought he meant when he offered her a hand. She thought he meant he would help her with him, not help her with her. Not that it mattered all that much, but she was more interested in his reactions, not hers.

The impulse carrying them, the fingers of her right hand unfastened themselves from his coat, slipping down past his lapels and inside. It was ice-cold. She struggled a little, but managed to push it from his shoulder, copying the action with her left hand until his coat lay crumpled around his elbows. She could feel his smile against her skin and she squirmed a little under his lips.

So, she wanted him out of his clothes. He wondered if she would appreciate what she saw when she got under the bottom layer. He certainly thought it was one of the best things about him. It was the only thing about him which could reasonably be labelled as original. Over the 700+ years of his un-life, that at least had not changed, though it was very seldom seen. Sir Integra had only seen it once herself.

The next thing Seras attempted to remove was the cravat. It was difficult with her neck bent at such an angle and the movements of her Master's lips; sucking, licking, grazing her skin… She couldn't concentrate. She was caught in a drunken, sensual haze that was – at least somewhat – new to her. Sure, she'd touched herself once or twice over the 30 odd years she'd spent alone, but this was very different and they hadn't even gotten to the most important bit yet!

She reached a hand behind her head and untangled his fingers from her hair, letting her head back up to where it was meant to be. But lifting it was such an effort and she ended up sort of rolling it across her shoulder.

She rolled her head across her shoulder, the sun-bright locks of her hair catching and then drooping forwards, some strands swinging to catch on his waistcoat. She looked so relaxed like that, as though the very movement itself was testament to how happy she was to be sat with him like this. Her thoughts however told him otherwise. She had left both doors hanging wide open and it was obvious that she was far too drunk to contain herself. Like for example she was currently examining the material of his waistcoat and wondering what it was made of, even as she rolled her hips slowly over his. He grinned. She was like an open book.

"Are you bored with me already, Police Girl?" He asked, clearly referring to her in-depth inspection of his clothing.

"Nuh-uh." She shook her head, raising it to look him in the eyes, a soft, kitten-like expression coming over her face. "I'm enjoying myself."

He raised an eyebrow. Good to know. He tilted her chin a little, drawing her in, inviting her to make the first real move towards anything they would go on to do that night. She took it.

His lips were thin, slanted in a cocky grin, begging her to taste them, to touch them with her lips. She still remembered the metallic, slightly spicy flavour of their last kiss and wondering if this time would taste any different. It didn't. Their lips fit together so well… Although he was frozen and unresponsive, it was as though he was a perfect match for her. She sucked his bottom lip gently, nibbling along it, drawing blood. It tasted like fire on her tongue…

He didn't bother moving, or kissing her back. There wasn't any point really. Her head hit his shoulder before long and he heaved a sigh. So long sweet deliverance, it looked as though he would have to wait a little while yet. It was his fault for getting her drunk anyway. He could tell she was going to fall asleep from the second their lips touched, little bits of her thought started shutting down, her movements weren't as defined as they were when she was awake, the biting took a full minute for example and he didn't have the time to wait around and kiss her for hours and hours. If they were going to do anything at all, it would all be done and dusted in well under an hour.

He tipped her body more so onto his shoulder and began turning her round, so he could properly get a hold of her legs and pick her up. She was bloody heavy for such a small vampire, but then again he had just filled her with all that blood, so he guessed that this was his fault as well. He shrugged his coat back onto his shoulders and began the trek towards her chambers. There was no point in trying to bleed through the walls to get there; she had to be awake for that to work. It was one of the reasons he had never been able to spirit girls away and had to suck their blood while they slept in their own beds. If they were asleep then he couldn't manipulate their forms. It was a sort of philosophy-entering-the-real-world scenario. Descartes had hit upon it when he said 'Cogito ergo sum', when someone was unconscious, the world for them ceased to exist – or something like that. It wasn't really important, it was just inconvenient.

He thought about putting her in his coffin and letting her sleep there, but she would take his head off in the morning if she remembered any of it. And if she didn't remember there would be several difficult questions to answer. Namely 'Why am I here?' and 'What happened last night?'. He hardly thought 'You fell asleep while you were kissing me' or 'we were engaging in foreplay' would suffice as answers. It was just better for everyone if she slept in her own damned coffin. At least that way he wouldn't be plagued by images of her sleep mussed hair or sleepy, confused red eyes, the realisation of her situation dawning in them and her plump, pink lips parting around an 'oh', or worse yet (!) being caught between her teeth as she tried to think of what to say. No, at least this way, the only images he would have to contend with would be the sight of her bending over backwards to accommodate him, allow him unfettered access to the white expanse of throat, allowing him to lavish her skin with adoration; the sight of her eyes slipping shut behind brown eyelashes, the deep red orbs half-lidded and lustful as they settled on his mouth; her lips as she went in for the kill, full, delicate… Kissable.

He dumped her rather unceremoniously in her bed and dragged the cover over her before the sliver of belly visible between her panties and her nighty – riding high on her stomach – could do anything to him. She squirmed, stretched like a cat caught napping and rolled over onto her tummy, hands falling lazily over the other side of her pillow, feet sticking out of the bottom of the covers. He reined in a tut and re-covered her feet. Sometimes, he just couldn't put the two people together. This Police Girl and his Little Bird.

A/N: Eurgh, I'm so glad that's over. I hate writing those scenes. I never seem to do it write, but I don't think it turned out as badly as it could have done *pleads unabashedly*...

Anyway, please tell me what you thought of this. I realise this may be a little soon in the eyes of many, but hey, remember, she is drunk through most of this, so she might not remember much ;)

Anyway, as usual, suggestions, critique and comments are all welcome. Reviews are the currency of the FanWriter's soul ;)

Cya tomorrow (next planned chapter),

-Lapin