No Hellsing had ever brought him so low, so fast. Never had he been controlled so easily.
It was always a battle of wills, with them.
Her bare skin was damp against his, and her breath came shorter and harsher as she slid against him. "Alucard." His name in her mouth, like he'd never heard it before. He forced himself to focus on her, and she met his gaze, unflinching and unafraid. Challenging.
"Integra," he groaned. "Master. Please."
"Please?" The corners of her mouth curved a little, somewhere between smile and an echo of his own mocking smirk.
"Please," and it was nearly a whimper. No Hellsing had ever brought him so low, so fast. Never had he been controlled so easily.
Never had he known a Hellsing like this one.
She inclined her head and let his hands go. He pulled her down to him, claiming her mouth, running a hand through her hair, sliding the other across damp golden skin.
Her skin was not the only damp part of her. "Alucard," she hissed, arching against him. This was his opportunity to tease, to return the favor maddening moment for moment, but patience had never been his strong suit.
He had waited too long, already.
"Are you ready?" he asked. She answered with mouth and hands and sweat-slicked body in a way that left him gasping. Absolutely fearless, his Integra. "I suppose that's a yes, then," and he guided her down. Her only reaction was a slight widening of those impossible blue eyes and a soft hitching of breath as he breached her.
They stayed motionless for a brief eternity, her heartbeat in his ears the only punctuation. "All right?"
"Yes," she rasped. She was trembling around him, against him. It pleased him that he'd managed to break through that iron reserve.
She's not such an ice princess now, is she? he thought, amused. He doubted that Walter would recognize his mistress like this.
"I'm ready," she said. Her voice was level now, in its normal register, and she 'd stopped shaking - a mortal lover might think her calm - but he could hear her pulse, fast and fluttery, her breathing quick and shallow.
"Are you, then?" He rolled her over sharply. She gasped and clung to him. Her nails traced bright fire along his back, startling him into forward motion.
Integra's moan was nothing he'd ever heard before, and it became an immediate priority to make her do it again.
"Master," he groaned as he sank into the empty dark.
He did not hit his head on the coffin lid, sitting up too fast. He was far too old to do such a stupid thing. He was just rubbing his head to clear it.
"The weather's beginning to affect /me/," he muttered, getting up. The insidious heat had everyone acting erratically. He'd thus far remained unaffected - but it was the only way to explain the dream.
It wasn't the first time he'd dreamt about his master, of course. It was just that his usual dream about her giving in to his advances involved a more - ahem - traditional vampire's embrace. The only bare skin involved was her neck. When the heat breaks, she'll go back to jackets and buttoning her collar to her throat, and put her hair back down where it belongs, and everything will be fine again.
He stepped out into the hallway. Perhaps a walk would clear his mind.