Author's Notes: I feel cruel again.

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"I've sinned," Anderson croaked silently, trembling in the dark. "O Father, Holy Father in Heaven, forgive me. My blood for the sacrifice, to cleanse my sins. O Lord--" He cut deep into his arm near the joint of his elbow. Blood gushed forth. The little stone pot caught the blood but not all of it. He was shirtless and alone in the dark, making penances to things that still haunted him in the night. It felt like darkness had finally caught up with him, and the mark left on his skin would not be cut or washed nor even burned away. His body ached from the torture he underwent daily; by the hour, he cut himself, slashed, gouged, the pain bringing back painful, embarassing memories.

"Forgive me. Forgive me."

But he did not know what else to do. He was tired. He was so very tired, his head filled with nightmares. He was tired of cold sweats, aroused at the very sight of his blood, at the simple pleasure he gained from damaging his body that never failed to heal, again and again.

"Forgive me."

He was exhausted from waking in the night, panting at the memory of cold hands groping his flesh, of hard teeth against his lips, whisperings, sin, sin. His sheets were stained with more than just blood. He wanted it to END, and now, before he was no longer a truly devoted servant of God.

He couldn't even think of that monster's name without closing his eyes and swallowing the guilt that came with how much he wanted to say it to him, for his ears alone. No. It was all for him, all this penance and blood and blades and absolute dogmatic bullshit. The vampire would complain of the wasted blood, of the wasted prayers. Nothing helped.

He shivered, watching as his flesh, carved open seconds ago, closed again in less than two seconds. He hissed, pouring alcohol on his skin, then slowly turning the blood over into the sink in his small room at the orphanage.

He stared as the thick substance slowly drained in a mind-numbing swirl into a black abyss. He was tired of feeling empty.

He pulled the sheet up over him, stripping naked. The nights were insufferably hot in this part of the building. It made it challenging to get up in time for breakfast and make sure all the children had enough to eat, were good to play outside. All that with his gracious God-loving smile, while inside he felt like a pedophile by just looking at their innocent small faces.

"He's poisoned me," Anderson thought desperately, clawing for his pillow and shoving his face in it. He moaned. I won't sleep tonight either.

But tonight would be different. In a spare moment that would not be wasted, Alucard was free to roam. The night was his to do with as he pleased, with some restrictions; his eyes focused on the form asleep there, on the bed.

As soon as the orphanage was bathed in dark, Anderson closed his eyes and feigned sleep. As the temperature dropped five degrees, his eyes opened only enough to percieve the window directly in front of him. It was dark out now. Too dark. When had he closed his eyes? 8 o'-clock? He trembled as he listened more closely to the ticking of the clock downstairs. Sounded like ten or eleven. Vampire happy hour. God help me.

Then he focused on the window again. The latches, normally closed, were open. He frowned, remembering specifically that he had shut them. He scowled as he threw back the sheet and walked to the window across the suddenly frigid cold floor, his pale nude silhouette in the window disappearing as he latched the windows again and pulled the curtains.

His fingers slipped away from the fabric when he felt the first cold brush of fingertips against the bare back of his neck. Electrified, he froze. Down his spine, slowly, meandering like a rivulet. "You should dress warm at night. Keep out the draft, Judas Priest."

"BLOODY--" he managed to cry before a second hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his words. Cool tendrils of hair tickled his shoulders as he fought the grasp. But he had done his penance and it would take another half a day to build up his blood supply again. He had costed himself his healing speed by abusing his body so much, in so little time.

And now he was reliving his nightmare. His eyes began to burn and things blurred at the edges. He wanted to scream but couldn't.

The only question was, what was the vampire going to do to him?

Against the window pane, Alucard was not reflected. He was nosferatu, of course. He felt his finger against his lips and opened them, determined to bite down as hard as he could. But the taste was like something sweet, like sugar, or honey. His mouth watered. He had been starving himself as part of his punishment, and the temptation of something sweet was ridiculously powerful.

He sucked hungrily, and felt his enemy smile.

"Sweets for the sweet," he heard him say with a chuckle, pulling him against the monste'rs hard body. "More?"

Wordlessly, Anderson nodded, stupid as a cow. Alucard reached into his pocket and produced a small candy, unwrapped it with his teeth, and forced the chewy caramel into Anderson's mouth. The man hated caramel, but it was sweet and silky and molded to whatever shape he wanted in his mouth. His arms were both trapped at this point. He didn't care. His saliva was thick and tasteless, but as it worked its magic on the candy he let it build up and take on the sweetness, before he swallowed. Alucard seemed content to watch him as he held him captive, his cherry red eyes glazed with a sort of satisfaction. He was breaking his fast and didn't seem to even care.

The caramel melted to almost-nothing; the last bit stuck to the back of his front upper teeth. His tongue worked to get it off. Then Alucard suddenly pulled by his hair, craning his head back at a painful angle. The vampire's mouth clamped over his and forced his mouth open, squeezing his jaw until it couldn't stand the horrible ache. His slick, cold tongue, somehow wet, worked over his teeth and then found the stubborn caramel and gently took it away. He lapped at his lips; the priest trembled, desire aching and burning in his loins.

"More?" the monster heedlessly droned. "I want my enemy to be strong, understand. You are worthless to me if you do this to yourself. God doesn't care what you do to yourself. You don't belong to anyone but me, right now..." His words were poison pouring right into his left ear and seeping into his chest. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

"You bastard," he recited, the only familiar words he could come up with. "Damn you straight to Hell."

"Spare me." The bed came up toward him suddenly. He lay flat, face-down, and twisted his head around to find the vampire in his sights while his fingertips pulled away the plank of wood behind his bed to free a blessed bayonet from hiding. But as he plunged his hand into the darkness, he groped at nothing. His heart fell.

Where was it?! Alucard couldn't have moved it far without him noticing it, right? Damn it!

And there, a glisten of metal. It was just out of reach. It just got bumped back a bit farther. So careless...!

Alucard pulled him back from the wall, sliding his palm over his shoulder. Squeezing. His eyes burned again with tears of frustration which soon dwindled down to shame. His sanity, slowly whittled away by Alucard's touch as he pressed his palms against his lower back, forcing him to arch and pant slightly.

A wandering, moist tongue explored his spine, moving lower... slowly tantalizing every inch of him that had been burning, scalded by memories. "Priest," Alucard purred, trailing fingertips along his twitching calves.

"S...St..." Anderson stammered, clenching his hands in the sheets, eyes shut tightly, arching with betraying eagerness. "Ah...Aluc..ard...!"

White cold raced up his back. So good... his powerful legs flexed as he tried to find leverage. He hated how this .. this nosferatu seemed to find every place he didn't want him to touch, and invade it with impunity. He gasped as he felt his tongue found sensitive crevices behind his knees, kissing the backs of his thighs, white gloved fingers teasing him open, unfolding like an armadillo. Without touching his genitalia at all, he was harder than stone, aching and writhing.

How could anything feel this good, he thought hazily, and be a sin? He tried to remember why he hated Alucard, why... why he wanted penance. He felt lips at his ear, whispering, whispering.

"Come out now, priest. Stop hiding. Let me see your ridiculous face."

One instant later, and he was flipped over, and the nosferatu was leering over him with that infuriating smile. He wanted to spit in his face. "Why?" he wheezed, struggling. "Get off me... I swear, I'll... just..." He bit off his words; Alucard tilted his head to the side, touched a finger to his lips and smiled.

"Priest," Alucard mocked, flicking just the tip of his erection, causing the regenerator to jump.

"Say my name," Anderson challenged. "You won't dare... say it...! Alucard!" He writhed when his voice was a bit too loud for Alucard's liking. His punishment was a sharp, unsatisfying pinch to the inside of his thigh. The pain trickled down nerve-endings and pleasantly buzzed in his ears. He gave a low growl, and held that gaze. "Say it... Say it, monster."

"What do I get in return?"

Anderson quivered, feeling every inch of promise in the voice that spoke to him. Deep...velvet... what it would sound like if he returned the carnal pleasure he so often gave. "To keep me," he replied. "Tonight."

"Now?"

"Forever." His limbs felt heavy as he lifted his arms, pulling the vampire close and raking his cheek with his tongue. In his arms, the vampire trembled, and must have felt something equal to shock. "Say it."

"Anderson. Alexander. Anderson. Alex." Anderson felt him relax, moving against him, pieces of clothing peeling away. "Anderson, Anderson." So cold... the heat was gone. It was gone forever, between one gasp and the next moan. He felt sinless, unstained. Desire burned as a constant fuel for his every breath and word. He never wanted anything to last forever, so much, in his life. Not even his faith seemed to measure to this ecstacy. He hated the vampire. He wanted him to stay. Because he took something away when he left him barren and exhausted.

It simply was not fair how staggeringly devoted he was to the crashing moment, arching as he bent his head back, his throat exposed, his cry muffled by a whitegloved hand against his lips. He wanted to be loud, and Alucard knew it, and licked his skin, moaning in recompense.

"MORE," Anderson begged, clawing. "More. More. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"Forever." He licked his lips and bent his head, keeping his fangs from Anderson's flesh. He wanted his enemy to be strong, after all. It would not do to be sucking him dry after all the abuse he'd put himself through.