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For those in the know, it was no secret that the Hellsing organization employed a vampire as one of their hunters. Not just any vampire either; this one was said to be extremely powerful, immune to crucifixes, holy water and silver. The threat was made out to be so great, that originally concerns were raised about the safety of the public and Her Majesty the Queen if the creature was ever to turn upon its master. The then head of the family was at risk of being put on trial for suspected treason, but Her Majesty herself stepped in. She took a firm stance on the fact that that vampire, despite all its power, posed no threat to her or Britain, and in the end that saved the Knight Order from being investigated and most likely disbanded.
But that was a long time ago. Nowadays, mentions of a vampire serving the Hellsing family were met with nothing but scoffs and condescending looks. After all, who would even believe such nonsense? Vampires do not exist. Everybody knows that.
***
The moon was full, shining brightly over London, hugging each spire and building, shimmering on stone where the yellowish shine of streetlamps didn’t reach. The mansion situated away from the city was silent, sleepy, silvery rays of light poking in through the tall windows. Most of them were covered by heavy floor-length drapes, dark in color, thick, but dustless – the domestic staff keeping the Hellsing residence tidy always did their job thoroughly under the watchful eye of the family’s butler. Walter C. Dornez might have seemed like a mild and agreeable man, but appearances were misleading, and old age had done nothing to soften his iron grip on his subordinates. Long hallways and numerous rooms were always notably clean, no exceptions, and it seemed like even the spiders that were bound to make themselves at home in the cool darkness under the ceiling of any home avoided being a bother here.
The same couldn’t be said for other creatures that preferred dark and secluded places. There was exactly one in the mansion, that same “nonexistent” vampire whose existence, however ironic that may be, raised so many concerns all those years ago. Back then his old acquaintanceship with the Queen and him being in her good graces saved the previous head of the family a lot of trouble, even if the vampire himself was neatly locked up under the mansion in a stone prison cell. Nowadays he would still spend most of his time underground, but in a different room. And what a difference it was indeed. The one he resided in now was much more spacious. There was even furniture in it – a single tall chair and a small coffee table where he would put his daylight glasses or an occasional bottle of wine paired with a glass. He didn’t need much else, even this was excessive as all that he actually required was some space to have his final resting place, a large black coffin, kept hidden away from the eyes of intruders. He had no need for soft pillows, warm blankets or even a cabinet for his belongings, as he didn’t have any. He didn’t require much sleep, sustained himself perfectly fine on donor blood provided to him by the organization once a night and could easily go without that for some time too, if need arose. His personality was aloof and often acrimonious, showing no semblance of a craving for socialization. It would be hard to determine if that was a result of his multiple-century long existence, full of bloodshed and violence, or if had naturally always been antisocial. But facts remained facts, he was a monster through and through. Violent, bloodthirsty, cruel, a barely tamed beast held back from committing utter atrocities by powerful magic, and not much else.
And yet, as Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, the head of the Hellsing family and organization, was filing the last of paperwork at this late hour, she could feel something slowly taking up the previously empty space under her desk. It wasn’t strange or new to sense a presence near her, lurking in the shadows or just out of the corner of her eye. She got quite used to it throughout the years, actually. But normally this presence had enough decency to at least make itself known by showing up in her field of vision or even with a greeting. A deep, purring voice coming out from the organization head’s own shadow would often scare less accustomed people quite a lot, but for the most part the vampire’s antics were reserved for moments like these, when he and his Master were alone.
Right now, however, she was busy, and thus ignored everything, instead concentrating on the task at hand. She was doing quite well, too, until the creature let out a small, almost inaudible sigh. Just like a big dog trained not to bark indoors would if it tried to convey displeasure.
“Behave,” she ordered, voice firm, eyes never moving from the paper. The air under her desk shifted almost imperceptibly, as if teasing her by pretending insubordination.
“Alucard,” she insisted, and there was no response this time. Only silence hung in the cool air of her office.
The documents were just some reports she needed to make sure were in order. They weren’t urgent, but she preferred to complete her work early. This way she always had enough time to do everything diligently and catch possible mistakes, if there ever happened to be any.
Something pressed against her knee. It was blunt, and after a moment or two she felt the slight cold seeping through the fabric of her trouser leg. It wasn’t a hand, the obvious lack of anything even resembling the outline of fingers made that clear enough, but she could not say with conviction what exactly it might have been. But then it moved – rubbing against her carefully – and Integra felt a goosebumps cover her skin. It must have been his face, she realized. His cheekbone, judging by the hardness of it. And he was just pressing it against the inner side of her leg, sitting there patiently, like a dog awaiting pets and maybe a treat.
She considered ignoring him. He did not move. She could just imagine how he looked under there; skin porcelain-smooth and cold to the touch, hair jet-black and pooling around his face, either about chin-length and almost fluffy, or somehow longer, much longer, snaking down his neck and onto his rich red coat. Or was he only sporting his shirt and vest right now? Did he have his glasses on even in the darkness of her office, where only the full moon peeking through the window and the table lamp on her desk shone light over everything?
“Master,” his voice came suddenly, low and jarringly soft. Integra barely suppressed a shiver that threatened to run through her spine. Surely, out of surprise; nothing else.
“What?” she managed to sound irritated, somehow.
“You are tense. Is something the matter?” the words dripped from his tongue like honey. Another adjustment, this time a more pronounced one, and Integra felt him lean against the inner side of her knee with much more insistence. She leaned back against the chair and glared down at those audacious scarlet eyes staring back at her with an unmistakable playful glint. Someone who was not used to Alucard’s antics would have probably been startled by those two glowing orbs peeking out from the relative darkness under the desk. Especially considering he did not even bother with settling on a proper form, instead just presenting as a severed head, cheek squished against the dark fabric of his master’s trousers. Integra continued glaring.
“You are distracting me, you absolute menace,” she scolded. But the corners of those pale lips turned upwards, and she knew she walked right into his trap.
“My only aim was to make sure my Master is not overworking herself,” he grinned, sharp fangs showing momentarily, and leaned in. Integra almost closed her legs reflexively but was stopped by a shoulder that the vampire somehow possessed now too.
Probably materialized properly now just to get on her nerves more, she thought, feeling blush crawl up her neck.
“What do you think are you doing,” she hissed, reaching down with one hand to grab at his hair – silky-soft and cold to the touch. It looked as if it was supposed to slip right through her fingers, like a liquid would, but stayed in between them, almost teasing with its obedience. Integra was suddenly all too conscious of the fact that her gloves were laying at the edge of the table. Without them she felt even more exposed.
“Does my Master object?” the vampire looked up at her with an almost innocent look in his eyes. Almost, because with that he pressed the gloved fingers of his left hand just a little higher than her other knee, sending sparks up Integra’s spine.
She wanted to object, she had to demand he stop these games and let her finish the damn paperwork, but she could feel the heat coloring her cheeks a darker shade, making her acutely aware of how much of a mess she must already look. It was unbecoming of the head of Hellsing to lose her composure so easily, but she had no way of preventing that. Not when it was Alucard – the bastard somehow knew all her weakest points and used this knowledge masterfully. Integra had to bite down on her lip to keep her thoughts from going in the wrong direction. She still had things to do, damn it!
Alucard, perhaps bored, huffed lightly and moved his face away from her leg. Integra was just about to breathe a sigh of relief at that, and he turned his head and buried his nose against the inner side of her thigh, nuzzling into it shamelessly.
“You are delectably warm, Master.”
Integra tightened her grip on his hair involuntarily, feeling a sweet tug in her lower belly. The vampire’s tone wasn’t sultry or even teasing this time; he sounded genuinely comfortable, at peace, even. It always got to her when he sounded like that.
“Why, you..!” she wasn’t sure what exactly she was going to tell him, but it was cut short anyway by a sharp knock from the other side of the room.
“Sir Integra, are you there?” a voice came, and Integra froze. Walter was not somebody she would like to see now. The man had no less experience with Alucard than her. He would absolutely notice his presence, from the tell-tale heaviness in the air and the way the shadows moved nervously around the room, like rabbits afraid of a predator. And while her butler surely would not say a thing, Integra still did not feel like letting the man who had virtually brought her up see something like this.
“Is something the matter, Walter?” she called back, voice steady.
And with that she felt Alucard gently run his fingers up her thigh for a couple torturous centimeters, clearly testing her composure. She gave his hair a sharp tug and regretted that immediately – the soft, barely audible noise the man made had her heart skipping a beat.
It worked, however; Alucard stilled and just stared up at her with those burning eyes. Expectantly? Hungrily? It was hard to tell, with how half of his face was still pressed against her leg.
“I was going to ask if you would like some herbal tea,” came the voice from the other side of the door finally, and Integra only now remembered that she was a part of a conversation.
“No, thank you. I shall be going to bed soon,” she mustered, eyes still locked with Alucard’s.
“As you wish. Good night.”
Integra let out a sigh of relief. Thank God Walter did not come in to speak face to face, as he usually would. Maybe, he didn’t want to bother his master at a late hour too much, or maybe there was some other reason, but whatever it was, she felt lucky.
“Are you really that concerned about Walter seeing us like this?” Alucard mused, voice slightly muffled. Integra turned her gaze away, pursing her lips.
“Shut up,” she exhaled, taking off her glasses. She leaned forward and put the weight of her head onto the palm of her free hand, trying to get at least a couple of minutes to calm herself down. That would’ve proved an almost impossible task if she kept looking at him.
There was a low chuckle from under the desk and then silence. But she knew he was there: she could still feel the smooth strands of his her in-between her fingers and the pressure of his face against her thigh. His fingers stopped and didn’t move anymore, instead lightly resting against her other leg, but that didn’t help one bit. She was all too aware of how he was positioned there, down below, just by the sensations.
Minutes ticked by, and finally Integra managed to collect herself. She sat up and put her glasses back on. Then hesitated for a moment... and glanced down again, meeting Alucard’s eyes.
“Distract me again, and I’ll send you back to the basement. Is that clear?” she ordered in a low tone, fingers carding through the vampire’s hair, brushing lightly over his scalp.
It might’ve been a trick of the light, or of darkness, but she could have sworn she saw the man shiver.
“Yes, Master,” he sighed, and didn’t say a word afterwards.