#hellsing fic

Just like now. When he walked through that door, just to be totally smug about it. "Told you I'd be back, cherie, no?" speaking with that French accent. What was so satisfying to hear, especially with the smirk in his voice, was the trouble it caused. "You always say that, but I need to make sure you're whole." You laughed at him before you felt how his strong arm wrapped around your waist. The other joined in too, pulling your body closer with a reference that made clear he missed you. Pip is more the guy to let his feelings speak through physical touch. Drawing you closer, stroking the apples of your cheeks. Tilting up your chin or even when he just massaged some circles in your soft thighs. All ways that spoke a little "Je t'aime" (I love you).

"Oui, wohle? Do I look like I'm missing a limb?" he asked you before grinning down at your smaller frame. When you laid your hands on his broad shoulders. "Let me test that myself, Romeo," you said with that teasing tone and the little glint in your eyes, before your hands felt up my arms.

Feeling some tense but warm muscles through the layer of his coat. "When you continue like that, ma belle, I'm not quite sure if I really don't want to lose a limb," he murmurs, the tone just a little softer. Flirty and cocky, but he meant it and not just in the way that, he said he wanted you in his bed.   

Watching how your delicate fingers traced his frame. You were glad he was back, maybe not for long, but he was. And he was yours, as you were his. And this was what mattered.

"Lose a limb and you can learn to make your favorite drink yourself," talking back with a drawn-up eyebrow. Before he then grabbed your waist and picked you up just to twirl you around the room, but of course you're not so easily off the hook, are you?

Not with Pip Bernadotte. "Wrap your legs around me, cherie. And give your man a smooch; I earned it," before he grabbed the back of your thighs.

Holding your weight up as if this were nothing. He just wanted to feel his pretty girl in his hands after that time. He showered; you could tell it. Just so you would not see the sprinkles of blood or smell the metallic note of guns. Pip smelled like sandalwood and, somehow, cinnamon. Just so you buried your face against his neck. Red hair tickling your skin. How you missed it, this feeling. This warmth.

"A smooch? How should I not when this man here went showering before coming here?" You chuckled before lifting your head, and then his lips were on yours. 

A kiss with him was like an autumn breeze, warm and prickly, making you have a chill down your spine in a good way. With that longing he first tried to suppress. But rough lips are growing needier. A groan came out of his mouth. So touch-starved when away from you, just so in love when feeling you so close pressed against him.

Your arms crossed behind his neck as he held you like this. Lips smacking together, and his breath caressed your cheek. Just one second when you both needed air before his tongue traced your bottom lip. And as soon as you let him...his tongue tangled with yours.

"You are too good to me, cherie. I love to come home to this. To you," mumbling against your lips before he started walking. Safe steps in the direction from the kitchen counter. Before placing you down there.

"Babe, we can't make a mess in the kitchen again. Wait at least until we go upstairs." You giggled before, and with a last greedy smooch, he let go of your lips. Kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. "I learned from my past mistakes. I am here for my welcome home drink. You said you will make it, ma belle," flirty and teasingly with his calloused hands on your thighs, right by the counter next to the fridge. "I said you can make it yourself when you lose a limb," you corrected him. 

"Oh, I heard what you said. But I didn't lose a limb, no? So let me have a drink made with the pretty hands of my woman. And then just exist in your lap. You do that for me, ma petite?" His voice was rough, but you heard how masked it was. That man, with his eye patch and his sarcastic remarks, missed you. Just wanting to have a moment of peace with you.

"I see, sooo your usual Vieux Carré? Although I really don't understand what you have with this drink," you meant then before hopping down the counter and getting the stuff for that cocktail with the French influence of Cognac.

That drink always reminded you of his hair, that color, even when it shone a little gold, but somehow it framed the vibe of this man perfectly. That eyepatch and the hat? This long auburn hair, the ruffled coat used on the edges. The smell of gunpowder and smoke. That was him. And yet the tenderness that was layered underneath...

You’d slipped only once on the cold walk back to the manor but had not fallen. As Alucard had promised, you weren’t met with cold, hard earth but a strong arm looping under yours, keeping you aloft. The vampire seemed rather proud of himself for catching you and you supposed that you had, after all, been proven wrong. Sly and villainous he may be — he was genuine in his desire to take care of you. 

He’d walked you to the edge of the forest, where the two of you parted for a short while to avoid him being seen by any of your family members. There, at the forest’s edge, he’d whispered a smug word or two into your ear, which you’d found yourself unable to ignore like you once had. Something in the way his breath sounded so close to your neck.

Lately, your ears had been more perceptive than you were used to. Once, you’d been able to drone out Alucard’s purring tone with relative ease. Now you find that even the slightest sound from him — a clicking tongue, rustling fabric, a short inhale — has your head turning and attention drawing to him. No other sound drew you quite like he did, though; not the crackling of the hearth in front of you, the low whine of storm wind at the window, or the clack of your mug of tea being set down on the coffee table by your own hand. 

You were sitting in the recently finished drawing room late at night. The fire was the only light in the room, casting a flicker of orange over your skin and chasing away the winter cold. There was a time when being in this room like it was now — dark, with hardly enough light to expel the inky black shadows — would have terrified you, lest a looming figure come creeping through the door to wick the fire out like a mere candle. That looming figure still lurks, only now you’re aware that it belongs to you. 

You curl your legs up on the sofa, leaning drowsily against the armrest as you watch the fire and listen to the shifting of fabric behind you. The air feels weighted and you look up only to find a pale face already peering down at you. It startles you a little; Aluard’s observational expression and the long black hair that trails down far enough to nearly tickle your cheeks. He smiles. It’s not a big smile, but you catch the glimmer of a snaggly fang in the firelight. 

“What?” you whisper up at him. 

Alucard tilts his head slightly, an eyebrow raising. “Am I not allowed to look at you?” he whispers in return.

You say nothing, eyes trailing along the shape of his teeth before turning your gaze back to the fire. Those teeth… You wondered how many had died from those teeth. Alucard was very old and had seen war and carnage you were positive you couldn’t even imagine. He’d killed with blade, hand, and jaw alike, you were sure. He could have slain you down in the basement, easily. But he hadn’t wanted to. 

You chew on the inside of your cheek. He hadn’t wanted to. Alucard had settled for licking up the blood from your wound instead of ripping you apart. Those teeth that were once so good for killing now rested patiently behind his lips and had never once broken your skin. 

“What are you thinking about, my master?” Alucard rounds the sofa, coat fluttering behind him. He comes to sit on the recliner at your right, crossing one long leg over the other and steepling his gloved fingers in his lap. 

Your eyes are drawn to the glimmer of his leather boots in the flickering light of the fire, travel up a dark, rumpled pant leg, up to the buttons of his suit, and then to those jagged teeth barely visible through the slight part of his lips. 

“You said you can go without blood for as long as I wish you to?” 

“Yes,” Alucard confirms with a slow nod. He raises a curious eyebrow at you but otherwise stays silent. 

One day, you knew, one day you really would have to feed him unless you wanted him to go back to being a dry, old corpse. What would you do when that day came? Would you prick yourself? Would you have the strength to break your own skin? You suppose you could simply permit him to go out and find blood as he pleased, but something about the idea of Alucard digging his fangs into who knows what struck a chord with you. He said he can go without blood for as long as I wish him to, but…

But what? You distract yourself by reaching for your mug of tea and settling back into the couch. Your mind swims as you take a sip and stare into the crackling flames in front of you. 

How would it feel? 

To be on the receiving end of a bite like that? 

You remember the feeling of his tongue well. It was strange then, cold, wet, and long. But how about his lips? His teeth? The brush of his nose on your skin? 

You swallow your sip of lukewarm tea and cough a little on it. You must have lost more than just your mind down there in the basement. Or maybe… you’ve gained something. Looking at Alucard now, your wonderings become less wondering and more concrete. 

“Are you hungry?” The words slip out before you even have half a mind to stop them.

Crimson eyes glitter for a moment, brought to life. Alucard’s lips twist into that villainous smile you’ve come to know well. “For you? Master, always.” He purrs and inclines his head in confirmation, lidded eyes staring at you through dark lashes. It's quick, but you catch the flick of a hungry tongue along his bottom lip. 

Your breath catches in your throat at that. Unable to look at him, you avert your eyes to the silver vase above the fireplace and clutch your mug a bit tighter. “I think…” You begin to get up from the sofa, hoping the walk to your room will calm your thrumming heart. “... I should head to bed.” 

“Oh, yes, It’s very late.” Alucard’s voice is filled with knowing. He too stands and follows behind you at an easy pace. 

“Why did you say that?” You ask when you’re in the privacy of your room after brushing your teeth and washing your face. Rummaging through your dresser for a pair of pajamas is your best excuse for not looking at him. Alucard’s answer to your question had been playing in your head since he’d said it.

“Say what, my dear master?” Alucard’s boots tap on the marble as he nears you. 

You watch his shadow move behind you, cast by the flickering light of a candle at your bedside. “You know what.” 

“Why did I say that? Hm… The same reason you asked it, I suppose.” 

You tense when two hands slide past your own and pluck a set of pajamas out of the drawer for you. No more excuses. You take the set and slowly turn to face him. The same reason I asked him? You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean — no, wait — interest. Maybe a little more than interest. Yes, interest is a title you’re comfortable calling this feeling. You’re interested in those teeth of his. You’re interested in the ever-changing length of his hair, which seems longer when he's excited. You’re interested in his unusual clothes, in his eyes, in his purring tone, in the way he converses with you, and in the way he’s looking at you right now. 

“Turn around,” you order, spinning your finger in the air. 

Alucard turns, long, black hair sweeping in the air before settling in messy waves down his back. He’s so tall he blocks the candlelight from you. “You don't need my help getting changed, then?” 

Your grip tightens momentarily on your pajamas as you glare at the back of his head. “Since when did I ever need your help?” 

“I recall a time.” 

“A time that wasn’t your own doing?” 

“Touché.” 

You almost snort out a laugh while you also turn your back to him and begin to shrug off your clothes from the day. The set that Alucard had selected was more comfortable than they were flattering. Plain and unremarkable. You toss your old clothes into the hamper before brushing past him. 

A firm hand catches your arm, causing you to stumble before you turn to look up at Alucard. 

“Tell me what you were thinking about down in the drawing room.” He’s serious. You see no playful twinkle in his eyes. 

Part of you wants to come back at him with a cheeky remark about whether or not he should be making demands of you… but you want him to know. “I was…” you slide your arm out of his grasp, collecting your thoughts. “... Thinking about your teeth.” It sounds strange out loud, so you wince slightly.

Alucard looks vaguely confused. “My teeth?” He grins as if to show them off in all their sharp, jagged glory. “What, not white enough for you?” 

You scoff. Nothing would remove centuries of blood staining. Besides, he’d only be even more creepy if his teeth were pearly white. “Not that.” 

“Then what? Too sharp?” 

“No. I was only wondering what a bite from you would feel like.” You say it casually as your nerves build and your confidence in steering the conversation toward your unspoken end goal falters. You turn to climb into bed but are stopped by a hand gripping the back of your shirt. Again, you stumble to a stop.

“Ah? Now you have to elaborate. A bite from me? Master, is it possible that you… want me to bite you?” 

You feel heat rush to your cheeks, shoulders tensing where you stand. Alucard doesn't give you a chance to speak, though. 

“Ah, I can’t do that, now can I? I promised no harm would come to you. Unless you really want it.” The last few words are muttered right up against your ear. 

You shiver quite obviously and cross your arms over your chest. “Your coaxing won't work,” you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel a pair of hands ghost down your waist.

You both know it already has. 

Alucard whispers a word in a language you’re unfamiliar with. It sounds like a curse; quick, hissed, and heavy. The sound has your nerves tingling and your head tilting like you might catch it again. 

He sweeps you around with a firm hand and you’re quick to cling onto him. Fingers dig into the strange texture of his coat and you look up, bewildered, and standing on your tippy-toes. In a blur, you’re seated on your bed. Your weight sinks into it in time with Alucard sinking to his knees. 

Before you can even react with any amount of flusteredness, your hand is taken in Alucard’s and your eyes are captured in the deep crimson of his own. 

“I-it seems like you want it more than me,” you stammer, beginning to sweat due to your climbing body temperature. 

“So you do want it,” purrs Alucard, whose eyes go wide with excitement. Before you can speak a false objection, Alucard tugs your hand. “Where shall I bite, master? Here?” His lips brush against your wrist. 

You blink down at him quickly, your heart skipping a beat as you stammer some more. 

Alucard’s mouth trails higher, bottom lip dragging softly up to the meaty part of your forearm. “Here?” he whispers, like a demon in your ear. 

You gulp down a sigh and will yourself to think. It was as if your brain had turned to mush. There? No. You shake your head slightly and shudder as those lips trail higher. 

“Here?” He’s at your bicep. 

Through the hammering of your heart, you manage another shake of your head. No. 

When Alucard’s lips brush against your shoulder, you jolt and shift your dangling legs. Bare toes press into the warm fabric on his thighs. You feel the muscle underneath, strong, and undying. His body is between your thighs now, leaning ever closer. 

“Here?” 

“No,” you whisper, fingers gathering into the lapels of his coat, subconsciously pulling him in. 

Alucard leans closer, arms sliding past your waist to plant on either side of you. He rises higher on his knees and your legs slip further apart at the motion. Your nose is filled with the scent of him; strange, coppery, and somewhat sweet. 

There’s a tension there, palpable in the air. You felt like if you moved in any way that string pulled taut in the air would snap and the both of you would fall into a discordant mess.

Alucard noses gently into the crook of your neck and your eyelids flutter. His breath is hot and you catch the wavering of excitement in it. Soft hair tickles your cheek and warm lips ghost across your neck and you grab him. It's unspoken and instantaneous. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull him close, muttering ‘Right there.’ 

Alucard hums low against your skin, pressing up against you like a lulling tide. Chest to chest. His lips part and you feel the slow lave of that long tongue along the side of your neck. It makes you shudder out a gasp, a nervous jitter growing in your belly. Alucard’s teeth drag and then snag and he holds you against himself before he bites. 

“Ow, Oww!” You screw your eyes shut and crane your neck away, fingers digging into his hair. It hurt. You kick your legs out and bring them back in, digging your heels into his spine. It hurt bad. For a moment, with his teeth dug in deep, you wonder if pain alone can kill you. Tears spring at the corners of your eyes, only slightly soothed by Alucard gently removing his teeth to lick around the bleeding wound. 

Alucard hums a sound that makes you feel as if you’ve done a good thing. Praise. He gathers you into his lap, sliding you carefully off the edge of the bed and onto his thighs. There, he places warm, bloody kisses across your neck, occasionally stopping to suck lightly at the wound and swallowing with a shuddered breath. 

Your thoughts go from pondering death to nothing at all. You cling to him thoughtlessly, feeling no more pain. It had been replaced with a slow-building pleasure that seemed to spread out from your neck, where he laid a thousand affections. Your legs lay out haphazardly on either side of him and not even the chill of the cool marble on the soles of your feet is enough to distract you from his teeth and tongue. You’re crying, you think… but you’re not sad or in pain. There’s a feeling lulling in your chest, heavy and strong. It pushes at your ribcage like it knew his was right there pressed up against it; like if your chest could open up it would fill his with that feeling too. You wonder deliriously if Alucard’s heart beats so strongly too, or if it even beats at all. 

“There, there, master.” Alucard pulls away from your throat with a gulping sigh. He rocks you slowly, a soothing hand rubbing up and down your spine. “Have I satisfied your curiosity?” 

You nod your head faintly where it lays on his shoulder, wet eyelids drooping. 

The lack of a biting comeback or witty words from you has Alucard laughing deep in the back of his throat, like the purr of a dragon. He licks his lips, tilting his head to breathe in the scent of your hair. “My sweet, sweet, darling master.”

You feel weak in the morning. Dull, winter sunlight cast through your window, waking you from a deep, dreamless sleep. It had taken you just a couple of moments to realize your neck had been carefully treated and bandaged sometime in the night. There’s still a dull ache there, and a bruise, probably. 

The next thing you notice is that you’re entirely alone. This would be the first time since you agreed to Alucard’s deal that you’ve woken up alone. You frown a little — no, maybe it's more of a pout — as you sit up in bed and push the covers aside. He always said good morning. Sometimes you even let him fix your hair, but that was more recent. 

“Alucard,” you call him, sliding your legs so that you’re perched on the side of your bed. 

There’s no response. Usually, he’d appear before you within moments, saying something silly like yes, master? What can I do for you, master? You look especially lovely today, master. It makes you blink a couple of times before clearing your throat and re-adjusting how you sat. 

“Alucard,” you tried again, a little more demanding this time.

 Nothing. 

Your bottom lip twitches as you feel a pang not only on your neck but in your chest. Why aren’t you here? Momentarily, a thousand worries erupt in your mind; he only ever wanted my blood. He’s got it, now he’s gone. Maybe drinking my blood was his final wish and he’s gone off to some other plane of existence like a satisfied ghost. You shake your head and force the thoughts out, reassuring yourself that he must be off doing something else. What else?

There’s nothing you can do about it, really, so you get yourself ready on your own and head downstairs for breakfast. 

Your family is quick to notice the bandage wrapped around your neck, eyebrows raising. Your brother speaks first. 

“What the heck is that?” he points his fork, accidentally flinging a bit of scrambled egg across the table. Your mother reaches out warningly, pushing his hand back down. 

You chew on your bottom lip, pushing your scrambled eggs around the plate while frantically trying to come up with an excuse. With a blink, you find it. “I was… I took a walk yesterday in the forest and got scratched by a branch.”

Your mother sets her fork down and fixes you with a worried look. “You shouldn’t be walking about alone in the forest. What if somebody kidnapped you? This place is so large we wouldn’t even hear your scream.”

“That’s morbid, dear,” your father murmurs from behind his newspaper, earning a scoff and eye-roll from your mother. 

“At least take your bother with you next time.” She picks her fork back up and resumes eating, giving you the same worried look your brother’s giving you, though his looks more suspicious. “And how- how deep is it?” She lifts a hesitant finger like the ghost of this mystery branch that supposedly wounded you would whip through the air and get her too. 

You swallow a bite of egg. “I don’t know. I felt it when I got back so it must not have been that deep.” Out of the corner of your eye, you catch your little sister slowly tilting her head at you. Before she can say anything you shake your head the smallest amount at her. She closes her mouth, glancing at Mom before continuing to eat her cereal as if she hadn’t figured anything out. 

After breakfast, when you’re on your way to the garden to look for Alucard, you feel tiny hands grasp onto the hem of your shirt. Curious, you stop and turn around, pausing just before the two large front doors. Your sister’s looking up at you with a pouty bottom lip. You say her name sweetly and crouch so that the two of you are the same height. “What’s the matter?”

“Al bit you.” Her voice is wobbly like she might cry. “I told him to be nice to you!”

“Oh,” you sigh, heart clenching. “He is being nice to me.” Sort of. You glance sideways nervously.

“But he bit you!” Your sister reaches up to poke at the bandage wrapped around your neck. Thankfully, her jabbing fingers don't press on anything tender. 

You take up her smaller hand in yours. “I…” How does one go about explaining this to a seven-year-old? “... I let him. It’s alright.” 

Your sister scrunches her nose and tilts her head. “Huh?” 

Oh boy, you think with a sigh. “Well, Al um- he- uh- well, he needs blood to survive.” That was sort of a lie. Alucard just needed blood so he didnt turn into a rotten old raisin, but your sister didn’t need to know that. 

She gawks at you. “He’s a vampire?” 

“Well…” Really, you had nowhere else to go with this. “... Yes.” You wince, hoping you won't hear a shriek of horror or something similar. 

“Cool.” 

“C-cool?” You blink. 

“Yeah, cooler than a ghost.”

Wait, she knew he was a ghost? You decide not to ask her any of your boiling questions. You were sort of in the middle of something. Looking for Alucard. Speaking of which. “Have you seen Al at all today?” You steer the conversation away from his apparent vampirism and towards his whereabouts. 

Your sister shakes her head ‘no.’ “Have you?” She tilts her head. 

“No, I…” you stand to your full height, brushing off your knees. “... Haven't seen him at all today. Usually, he says good morning to me.” Looking towards the doors, you notice your sister hasn’t said anything in return. At her silence, you glance back down at her only to find her smiling like she knows something you don’t. “What?”

“Nothing,” she giggles. 

“You know something.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Tell me.” 

“No.” 

“Tell me.” You wiggle your fingers warningly. Your sister bursts into laughter before you can even tickle her, backing a few paces away and holding her sides. 

“Okay! Umm… I think he likes you.” 

You feel heat rush to your cheeks. “Likes me?” You’d guessed that much after all the kneeling devotion, but it felt flustering to hear it acknowledged out loud. 

“Uh-huh. He asks me about you sometimes.”

“What… kinds of things does he ask?”

The small girl taps a finger on her chin. “Um… he asked me what your favorite book was but I dunno that. He also asked me your bedtime but I dunno that either. Oh, he asked me your favorite tea. I knew that one!” 

Ah, no wonder you’d find a cup of your favorite tea set out whenever you craved it. 

“Don't tell him I told you,” your sister gives you a worried look. “I don’t want him to be mad at me.” 

“Oh, I doubt he’d be mad at you.” You reach down and ruffle her hair. “From what I can tell, he cares about you very much.” 

You’d checked the garden, hoping to find Alucard amongst the hedges, but were met with nothing but frosted leaves and distant birdsong. You called, but nothing came. 

The dining room was empty and you found the overcast lighting too dreary and depressing to stay around for long. Months ago, you’d encountered him here in the dark of your lamp going out. Now, it was cold and empty. You called, but nothing came.

You checked many of the other empty rooms, most of them dusty and containing sheet-covered furniture. You called to Alucard in each of them but received no answer. 

The last place you could think to look was the basement. You still dreaded going near it even though every threat it possibly held had been removed; even the mold, which was what the inspector had commented on when your father called for one back when it was discovered. You were getting desperate, though, and your earlier fears of Alucard leaving you — which you’d previously dismissed — were starting to feel too real. So, you made your way down to the basement, into the part of the manor that was left alone despite it being fixed up — like that side had a permanent plague that permeated the air. 

The basement door creaked open underneath the push of your hand and with it, a gust of cool, damp air. “Alucard?” you call down into the dark, squinting into the strange darkness that allowed you no more than a few feet of visibility in front of you. Your voice echoed down into nothingness.

Like all the other places you’d looked; it was empty. You didn’t feel him here like you felt him when he was around. Alucard always filled up the room with his presence. At one point, that feeling had been choking and uncomfortable, but now, after weeks and weeks of his presence, you’d come to find it a comfort. 

Without it, you felt… cold and alone. 

It was nearly sundown now. The halls of the manor were a hazy orange as the sun dipped down the horizon and lit the clouds up like pink-tipped fire. You skipped dinner, feigning a stomachache, and made your way up staircase after staircase, heading to your room. 

You wouldn't cry. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. It was stupid. He was only gone for a day. But he could’ve told me why. You don't know why it’s so upsetting. You should be overjoyed that he’s disappeared.

 No… I can’t keep lying to myself like this. You push the door to your bedroom open, wiping your wrist on damp eyelids. The truth was you’d been hoping to see him that morning after he’d bitten you. You were hoping for tender, cooing words. Hoping to be coddled a little, cared for, and looked after. Before you thought too hard about it and made yourself actually cry, you cut the thoughts off.  A shower should ease your mind. You were sweaty from walking up and down stairs and checking in every room of the manor for Alucard. Maybe that was part of the reason you felt so emotional. 

Pushing the door closed behind you with your heel, you look towards your dresser when you notice a shape in the corner of your room by your bookshelf. There Alucard stands, book in hand, flipping through page after page. You feel relief first, then joy, then anger. The latter comes out in a growl, like a wounded animal. 

“Where were you?” You stay put by the closed door, glaring at him and quickly wiping away whatever dampness still hung around your eyes. 

Alucard looks up from the book he was pretending to be interested in and snaps it closed. It disappears from his hand a second later. “Forgive me, I had something that needed taking care of.” His expression changes for a moment as he looks at you more closely. Long arms fold behind his back and he slowly makes his way towards you, head cocked. 

Your glare turns colder. “You could’ve told me before you decided to disappear for a whole day.” 

Alucard leans down, long, black hair sliding off his shoulder. “Were you looking for me?” His tone is surprised and he can't seem to help the quirk of a lip. A gloved hand reaches to capture your chin, tilting your head up. 

“Don’t change the subject,” you avert your eyes and pull your chin free from his grasp. “I don't believe your excuse. Why were you gone all day? Why didn’t you tell me?” You focus on the marble of the floor, inspecting the dull, swirling shapes within it. When Alucard doesn’t answer you, you look up at him, irritated and confused. 

He’s smiling down at you faintly, straightened up to his full height. “Hm.” His eyes flick down your body so fast you question if what you’ve seen was real. “I was out of sorts by morning, master, you see; your blood is very stimulating.” There’s a wild shimmer of glee in his eyes, which narrow as his jagged smile widens. 

You stiffen, watching him out of the corner of your eyes as he circles you. Stimulating? Alucard circles slowly, once, twice, and your eyes widen when he comes to stop in front of you once more. “You were…?” You gawk at him. 

Alucard bursts into laughter, deep and rumbling. The sound reverberates in your ribs and leaves you wide-eyed and shy. 

“Ew!” You shove his chest, ignoring the way he didn’t even falter, and rush to your dresser to pull out a change of clothes. “I’m showering. You stay here!” Flustered, you quickly make your way out of your room and to the bathroom. You didn’t want to hear any more, especially not when it made you feel… like that. 

The tile is cool under your toes as you strip and prepare the shower.

Your blood is very stimulating.

Alucard’s words echo in your head as you gently peel the bloodied bandage away from your neck. It’s already scabbed over. You're thankful for that as you step under the steaming stream of water. You cup your hands, letting them fill with water before splashing it on your face. It’s not very refreshing. The water’s hot and it does little to erase the image of him pacing around you in your mind. 

You think — rubbing water from your eyes — that your blood couldn’t possibly be so stimulating it put him out of commission for the entire day. Wasn’t he an all-powerful vampire? 

You open the lid to your soap and pour a little in your palm. 

No, that was just it, wasn’t it? Alucard had mentioned weeks and weeks ago how he found enjoyment in — as he put it — delicate things. Mortal things. 

Your hands rub the soap across your arms. 

Had he really been…? You can’t even bring yourself to think the words. Just imagining Alucard like that was too… too… mortal. Too human. 

Soapy fingers glide down your chest. 

He was an all-powerful vampire. Surely he didn’t have a need for mortal pleasures; unbuckled pants and slicked fingers. You see him for a moment, without the coat, with a few buttons undone, with a little more skin showing, glittering, sharp teeth, and heavy breath and you suddenly feel too hot under the water. 

When you return from your shower with damp hair and warm skin you can’t bring yourself to look at Alucard. He’s sitting at the foot of your bed. You can see the dark shape of him out of the corner of your eye but make no move to acknowledge him. 

He acknowledges you, though. The vampire rises from his perch, peering at you as you pass by to fluff your pillow and pull back your covers. 

You don’t want to look at him. Something’s changed in you — you see it now. The idea that he’d been so out of sorts because of you, well, what wasn't flattering about rendering an ancient vampire to that kind of state? Not only that, you realize; you’ve been rendering him to all sorts of states the entire time. How many times had he pledged his loyalty, dropped to a knee, and proven himself with unwavering patience as you try time and time again to wrap your head around your situation?  

“Is something the matter?” 

The low, steady tone of Alucard’s voice draws you out of your head and you catch yourself bristling like he might've been listening in. You know he hadn’t and that he wouldn’t. Not after you’d told him not to. 

You can’t seem to find words. Instead, you busy yourself with making your covers as wrinkle-free as possible, which is ridiculous, considering you’re about to climb in them. 

Alucard steps a little closer. You can practically feel him leaning over you. “Did you set the water a little too hot, master?” His voice lowers. “I can hear your heartbeat. It’s rather… fast.” 

You feel your skin prickle at his comment, side-eying his shadow in the candlelight with wide eyes. Even without reading your mind, he could find you out one way or another. You’re quick to try and change the subject. “There’s no way you’d be gone that long if you were doing that.” You bring your previous conversation back to light. 

“Doing what, master?” Alucard smiles something slimy and knowing for having such a coy tone. 

Flustered now, and desperate to avert his attention from your rising heartbeat and straying imagination, you stammer. “You… You… You know what.” You round to face him, eyes trailing quickly up each button of his coat until you’re looking into narrowed, gleaming, red eyes. 

Alucard hums softly and tilts his head to the side before leaning down in an unnatural fashion. “Touching myself?” His breath blows a strand of his dark hair against your burning cheek when he speaks. 

“You’re a pervert.” You quickly avert your eyes, confirmation making your head swim more and more. He was so close. So close you could feel his breath on your cheek. So close you could dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat and— 

“And why is that?” Alucard puts on a fake pout, tone dipping into something more condescending. 

What? You watch his puffed-out bottom lip move as his lips twist into a grin and catch yourself biting your own. You feel like you’re forgetting. Forgetting words, forgetting why you were even putting up a fight and trying to hide from him. Why is he a pervert..? You spin the question around and around in your mind but can't seem to even care enough to find an answer. All you know is that he’s teasing you. 

“No answer?” Alucard studies your face like one would inspect an interesting artifact. 

You can think of nothing to say. Nothing, until — amidst you clinging on desperately to the last strings of your resistance — a question comes to mind. One last test. Something that had been nudging the back of your mind for a short while.

“... Just my blood?” 

Alucard’s features twitch faintly with confusion. He turns his head a little, pointed ear closer to your lips. “What was that?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment before opening them and fixating on the topmost button of his grey suit. “Was it just my blood that made you feel that way?” You suddenly feel a little ridiculous for even asking, not wanting to seem like some lovesick fool in front of him. Were you? It scares you to confront it and you lift a hand to cover your eyes. 

There’s a ringing silence that makes you want, more and more, to sink into the floor and go to whatever dark room Alucard had pulled you into once so long ago. 

But then there’s a rustle of fabric and a gentle hand clasps your wrist, pulling your hand away from your eyes. You catch a glimpse of some tender expression on Alucard’s usually jagged features and quickly hide away from it with a duck of your head. 

He doesn't let it last, long fingers catching your chin and raising your eyes to his. “Look at me,” he urges you sweetly when your eyes try and dance away. A faint smile — something gentle — graces his features when he watches you struggle to maintain eye contact. “My little master, always so headstrong. Who knew you could get so shy? Is that what you’ve been hiding from me?” He leans closer and doesn't miss the way your bottom lip trembles. “It’s never been about your blood. Last night, when you gifted me a taste, I did not feel as if I was drinking blood; but you.”

His words feel tangible like they’re plucking at every rib in your chest. You’re sure he can hear your thundering heart. You can. You can hear it. That and feel a trembling need. Like some beast had just woken up in your chest, unafraid now of being seen. Your fingers tremble as they twist the hem of your shirt and you can no longer bear staring into his eyes. You turn your head sideways to hide once more but Alucard brings you back to him with a firmer jerk of his hand. You exhale louder than you’d wished to, heart spiking. 

You realize he wants you to say something but you feel like there’s cotton in your mouth. You try anyway, holding onto the lapels of his crimson coat. “I… I think…” Your head’s spinning and a thousand words buzz past you too quickly to select any. 

You make up your mind and Alucard seems to sense it just as you do. He drops your chin, weaving his arms around your waist just as you rise onto your toes and drape your arms around his neck. 

His hair’s like a curtain around you, long and soft. His lips are soft too, meeting you halfway and with a low purr that makes you dizzy. Your breath mixes sweetness, dipping into the saccharine. Sharp teeth graze your bottom lip, the blade of his nose pressing against your cheek as you both tilt your heads to get closer. 

Teeth and tongue.