Disclaimer—Once again—"I do NOT own Hellsing," only does the Master Kohta Hirano have that distinct pleasure.
Summary—Alucard is on the prowl, merely thinking about the war with Millennium and of course, his Master—The Sir Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing.
Added Details—This takes place during one of my other Hellsing-fan-fictions, where the Iscariot Agency is investigating Hellsing and Millennium is causing major chaos. (Death and destruction—the whole nine yards.) One in which, they fracture the Hellsing Seal, and in turn challenging the roles between the Master and the Monster.
HOWEVER—it is a work in process. And subject to change. Like anything.
Yummy, yummy in my tummy.
Enjoy my humble reader.
The figure purred, "Indeed—what a great night! Another beautiful moonlit evening!" Alucard gazed at the full-moon, half to himself he smirked, "Makes me want to suck some blood." A mischievous chuckle rumbled deep inside his throat like a roaring furnace. "Simply perfect."
Perhaps, he would stroll the paths in search of some unsuspected and ill-fated prey. Alucard had his fill of Medical blood. That notion was true, so terribly and painfully true. Do not be mistaken he liked it, since it was a perfect mix of life's giving liquid, but he longed to sink his fangs into warm flesh. Something alive. A plastic bag hardly had any spirit or spunk. However the only bad thing about a fleshy host was the impurities in the blood—alcohol, drugs, lack of nutrients, thinning blood and other distasteful pollutions.
Such pollutions especially included those souls who practiced an unhealthy sexual appetite. Such tainted blood had a horrible and atrocious aftertaste, naturally due to their unhealthy sexual cravings. Lord, he shivered at the thought. Gross! Disgusting.
Virgin blood! That is the prime, grade-A substance.
He caught himself drooling at the thought.
So good! Pure and untainted! Exquisite. Absolutely delicious.
Alucard felt his stomach growl. Bloody Hell! Ever since the Tower of London, and the disembowelment of the Hellsing Organization, the supply of Medical Blood had been scarce. Together, he and Seras had gotten their fill from Hospitals and Blood Banks, or from a lost human and beast. To his surprise Police Girl had acquired a taste for birds.
Silly, silly thing.
However, Alucard preferred the larger beasts, like horses or cattle. More blood. Much more. And a richer taste.
He was thirsty, so terribly parched. The hunger stirred inside him like a raging demon. However he would be prefer to feed upon—what soul?
The No-Life King answered himself, not hesitating in his reply, "I would rather have Her. My Master…"
Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing.
The Iron Maiden.
Regardless of those titles Integra would remain to be that same little girl in his mind's eyes. So fearless!
Alucard, on a scale of 1 through 10, would rate his Master's neck a twelve! No, perhaps a thirteen! It was such a lovely neck. The sight of it claimed attention, the alive and undead alike. Nevertheless, no one admired it as much as Alucard. She had such warmth in her virgin skin, which remained untouched by another human but so many times scarred by those of the undead, the monsters of the night. It was intoxicating. Her neck was long and slender, stretching the length of her veins along its length. Perchance such praise was for the gentle and elegant curve of muscle and porcelain skin that connected her majestic head and her sublime shoulders—or out of partially to his Master would remain a mystery.
No one knew.
Besides, Alucard would not be keen to explain.
Such deviant thoughts were personal and belonged to no one but himself.
Nevertheless it was such an exquisite neck. Regrettably Sir Integra seemed confident in allowing her silvery locks and tie to conceal such a treasure, hide it from the wandering and prying eyes of others, especially that of Alucard. And maybe it was wise. The mere sight of her neck, the luscious Hellsing veins just beneath the surface ensnared a passion inside his soul and better yet, his loins. Sometimes he believed she did such a defiant act in spite of the male sex. The notion neither surprised nor disappointed him. No doubt, Integra was a fine thing.
Worthy enough, in his opinion.
She was as beautiful, as she was strong—and that was the best of two worlds! Integra had a fine figure with the perfect curves in the right places but hid it beneath a tailored-suit. She was a beauty. And how many women did Alucard seduce, relish in the taste of their blood in his ageless lifetime? Many, many souls. Some were for pleasure and other strictly business, but above all of them, he favored Integra. Again, she was strong. In the past he had seen men piss their trousers, trembled and even die of fright at the sight of him but Integra did not even pat an eye. In fact, as a little girl Integra had laughed at him and at his form of the Hellhound. Again, so fearless even in the presence of death and defeat!
Unyielding, on the edge of the abyss.
Her eyes! He loved them. Next to her neck, came her eyes. So unique—like two sapphire-stones in a sea of a murky-gray blizzard. He had heard that, 'eyes are the window to one's soul,' and several times Alucard found that notion uncommonly true. Especially with his Master, Integra. True, Integra may behave in a cold, stern and unyielding professional manner but no patience, skill or inheritance could obscure the sentiments in them. They were true.
Although between her eyes and her fervid neck, Alucard preferred the second over the first. It was not just the neck itself, which he found intriguing or entrancing but also the crimson-fluid inside her. Her blood, the Hellsing heritage.
The blood of a Hellsing.
Again his mouth watered at the thought.
He had tasted on many throats but nothing, absolutely nothing else compared to his Master's blood, Integra. After all the mere aroma and taste of such a fiery liquid awakened him—woke him from twenty years of a silent and undisturbed slumber and after that moment, Alucard hungered for nothing else. Thirsted for nothing else. Such Hellfire! Damnation. But so wonderfully rare. Indeed, blood so thick and rich as hers was no way commonplace. For such a reason Alucard placed her blood in a category by itself, entirely. True Seras Victoria, Police Girl had an interesting taste when he sampled it, but in no way could it possibly compare to Integra. Lovely, simply bittersweet. It had such a magnificent smooth texture on the tongue, coating the entire surface. He favored it like an exquisite and rare wine. Perfect.And Virgin-Blood! What a splendid bonus!
Hell, he could smell it on her.
And tempting! The sight and smell of such crimson-life fluid threw him into a frenzy. It was a blood-rage, which the Hellsing Seal could hardly contain. Alucard wanted to taste her, savor her blood. In silence he vowed that he would, but only with her consent and permission. True, ravishing her might be agreeable and greatly pleasurable, however Alucard liked his women willingly.
He so thirstily longed for her.
Oh and especially now! Gradually the bonds of the Hellsing Seal had begun to crumble, falling into broken and shattered pieces. Progressively declining. Indeed—what a release! Soon, so terribly soon he would be free! Freedom! Thanks to Millennium and their Dark-Arts. 'Thank you so much! Thank you,' Alucard mouthed his appreciation.
Alucard wasn't a fool. He knew too well their intention. They were hardly secretive and so predictable! However—what if he took their offer? True, it was intriguing enough but his deep-rooted dislike against Iscariot made him bitter. Alucard gave an animalistic growl.
He hated the idea of being mastered over. No! I am my own Master! He was the No-Life King! KING! Not slave.
Frankly, Alucard would rather be the Master of Integra. Secretly, he longed to conquer and perhaps claim her. The fact remained that she was so stubborn and strong-willed that it seemed like an impossible achievement, but Alucard was determined to be patient. Her duty and pride would surely be her end, her demise. She was steadfast, faithful, implacable, her will absolute, like some Iron Maiden wed to duty and bound faithfully to her Protestant God. Nevertheless he was resolved to be patient. After all—'all good things come to those who wait.'
Alucard was waiting. He would wait.
It would be a challenge to master her. To change her!
The fact remained; Integra was human and therefore mortal. A stupid woman! She was trapped inside her fleshy cage! Alucard was a No-Life King, a Nosferatu! She was a soul captured in her flesh-sew prison but only if she would submit to immortality, would the stakes be fair and to his liking. What a breathtaking Countess she would make! A perfect No-Life Queen.
The current vampires were nothing more than maggots! Filth! Pretenders and frauds, but Integra was worthy.
Again and again he offered immorality and every time she refused! Perhaps for a fleeting moment, temptation and acceptation flickered in her eyes but diminished with her cursed humanity. That angered him! He could not understand why she would allow the frailness and bitterness of her mortality to consume her!
Integra reminded him of Artemis, the Greek Goddess of the Hunt. The Virgin.
In his thoughts, Alucard gave a nasty chuckle and closed his scarlet eyes beneath the shades, thinking. Integra…Integra. Such a silly, inquisitive girl. But not any different from Seras Victoria, the Police Girl. Again, a smirked crossed his lips. Seras could afford to be impractical, very curious and at times, unstable but Integra could not. She was a Hellsing,
Too long Alucard had served—no been, enslaved to the Hellsing Family! Well over a century. Sadly in truth, he could count down to the exact time—years, months, weeks and days in which that human, Abraham Van Hellsing detained him, placed the spell and bound him! Enough! It had been long enough! Time for retribution and imbursement for his services and patience—and if the 'Integra Fairbook Wingates Hellsing' was his reward, Alucard would not complain but accept and enjoy it.
No doubt she would as well.
Even Alucard could sense her hidden and unspoken desires, dark and unholy passions. She need not say a word. He knew.
Nevertheless Alucard resolved—if not a Master, than a meek and loyal pet.