A/N: I watched Hellsing Ultimate and a couple of months ago and read the manga. And honestly! This pair grew on me. I don't know how to describe their dynamic, they're like an even more twisted version of Morticia and Gomez Addams? With a tad bit of the princess bride thrown in? lmao And the anime itself was so bizarre and outrageous but fun like a corny popcorn action flick. It was the characters that really pulled me in. Anyway's I hope to write more for these two!

Darling, I wish you were red

When the grandfather clock struck midnight, she gathered all her paperwork, hundreds of important documents, proof read and signed under her name,

Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing—

then she handed that hefty stack to her butler, who would than transfer the documents come dawn.

When he exited with her work in tow, the Director stretched her arms high above her head until she heard that telltale pop of her bones shifting into place, she slumped into her leather chair with a groan.

Nineteen, she was. A young adult yes, but Integra felt far older, and it wasn't just her bones that indicated this.

It was the way her fingers were stained black with ink from writing since the morning. The purplish hue underneath her eye's, courtesy of many sleepless nights. The slight pounding of her temple due to staring at an obnoxiously bright monitor in the darkness of her office. The cloud of exotic smoke that surrounded the ceilings like a thick miasma from the pack of cigarillos she'd smoke within a day.

Her body felt too stiff, too strung from being kept in one place for too long. Integra longed for that rush of adrenaline that came from battle, from action. She'd go to the shooting range and fire dummy rounds into targets, or even practice her fencing skills were she not feeling so lethargic.

But, even she knew that her duty lay not only on the battlefield. Integra was gifted this life. Inheriting the title, the lands, the manor, the military… and the vampire, all from her father.

She had been primed once she took her father's too large seat as the Director of the Hellsing Organization eight years ago. She did have a childhood, though a short one. It ended all too quickly once her father became terminally ill.

As a child, Integra had vowed to the late Sir Hellsing that she'd be a strict, respectful leader, one with an authoritative voice, one with a spine made of steel, with unflinching eyes that'd turn her opponents to stone the moment their gazes would meet. One who would instill fear into their unholy enemies when they hear the name Hellsing.

She was Sir Hellsing now, and she had abided her promise to her father, for the most part, anyway.

May her traitorous uncle rot in hell for all the help he had in her rise to power.

But that was a memory she would mull over on another night. As she had many nights before.

Right at this moment, it was quarter to one in the morning, and she was in desperate need of a hot bath, and a steaming cup of chamomile.

"Walter," She nodded to the butler as he reentered her moonlit office. "Will you draw a bath for me, and I am in need of something to treat this… Insomnia."

Walter bowed his head. "At once, my lady."

He would be waiting for her, she knew.

He always lurked in the shadows of her bedroom once the witching hour arrived.

It was now 2:45am. Integra sipped at a cup of tea, her fingers fiddled with a lit cigarillo as she soaked in the lavender scented bath Walter had prepped for her. She could have done without the flowery scents, and the mountain of bubbles, but Walter seemed to have it in his mind that she was still the same little girl from years ago.

The scalding water had done wonders for her sore aching muscles though. The tea was served just as hot, but not so much that she'd burn her tongue.

She finished the cup and placed it on the silver tray beside the tub. Her thick platinum hair was done up in a messy bun, she fingered at a tendril that fell loose from her updo, floating onto the surface of the water.

Integra stuck the cigarillo between her teeth, sucking in thickly scented smoke and steam. She sunk further into the cooling water as her mind wandered elsewhere.

There was more paperwork awaiting her in the office.

Some of her soldiers had been left incapacitated from severe injuries after their last encounter with a rogue fledging vampire. Unfortunately, her revered servant took an extraordinary amount of time exterminating the damned thing.

A squad of London's police had arrived at the scene on the call of unusual activity and were of course caught in the chaos between Hellsing's best hunter and flesh hungry ghouls.

None were injured, fortunately for Integra. What those policemen witnessed would never reach public ears. She may have to see to that, as shady as it sounds. Though nobody would ever truly believe them, money usually kept indefinite silence, and so did empty threats. But money was a fickle thing, given the severity of Hellsing's financial dispute with the round table.

Sir Irons, and Sir Penwood were loyal to the Hellsing Organization, and were especially fond of Arthur Hellsing's daughter. Sir Irons was a tad tough on her, but he'd also been tough on her father. Both men, along with Walter had aided her and taught her all about the infrastructure of the order of protestant knights as she matured. Though the round table always had their own quarrels with her, and each other. Usually it was none that she would have to put her foot down for, so much as it would irritate her to no end.

As long as the topic of an arranged marriage was never brought up again. Penwood had sweated profusely when he had caught sight of Integra's malicious glare she pointed at First Lieutenant Wilhelm for announcing such rubbish.

How dare that simpleton, really. To question her leadership and plant the seed of the idea of her needing spousal support among the round table.

She had enough men in her life.

Integra closed her eyes, the water had become lukewarm, but she never felt more relaxed. She could sense him just beyond the door of her bathroom. A cold presence, but not unwelcoming.

A strange woman, she was. Integra knew this. She warded off the living men yet attracted the freaks to her like flies to a rotting corpse.

She couldn't help but think of that night from three years ago. 1993. On a wet brisk evening, when human activity dwindled; when all the devils awoke from their day long slumber.

On that night, she broke curfew. Fleeing from the confines of her own home into the cool rains of November.

On that night looking over the glittering skylights of London and Tower bridge from the view of Butlers Wharf pier; Integra Hellsing had kissed a dead man.

On a whim. She reminded herself constantly. On a girlish, foolish impulse.

But it was the myriad of events following the kiss that led the Director down a path of perversion. Of confusion, of heightened emotions that left her breathless, and her fingers and toes tingling, and her heart beating erratically, and her skin slick with sweat.

A rush of endorphins pumping into her blood, and it had nothing to do with the disposal of the Queens supernatural enemies.

She was sure to sin tonight. That was the feeling she was getting.

It was the feeling he was invoking upon her. Damn him.

Integra huffed, she stood from the tub, carefully stepping out and grabbing the fresh clean towel Walter had left for her, wrapping it tightly around her slim body. She stubbed the remains of her cigarillo onto the silver ash tray.

At least he had the decency to be patient.

It was Spring, and it had rained in morning, but the day had been mostly warm. Yet her bedroom felt chillier than before. She walked out of the bathroom, the steam curled wisps around her lithe form, goosebumps immediately prickled on her arms and legs at the sudden change in temperature.

Her sixth sense picked up on that other ominous presence secluded in the shadowy corners of her room. The shadows seemed to be delighted to sense her too, as they danced, writhing on the walls like black vines, growing larger and more menacing.

She ignored it. Integra padded to her armoire; her feet left a wet trail where she went. She grabbed the knob then pulled, sifting through her throngs of clothing for something to wear to sleep. All the while the shadows lurking behind her gained substance, building into the form of a towering, dark silhouette. Two glowing slits of ruby peered at her from the blackness.

"… I was thinking about that night I left the manor without supervision." She spoke to the dark presence behind her.

Integra pulled out a robe made of fine white cotton. She fingered the soft sleeves, "… It was a foolish thing, that. Abandoning my duties."

Truthfully, she had run away. Not permanently, but momentarily. She'd taken a failure from a mission too hard, she had been scolded, and ridiculed, and humiliated in front of the men of the round table. But she had been sixteen, and newly knighted. Prone to making adolescent mistakes, prone to imperfection.

Thinking about that past made her gut churn.

"You were but a young girl, my master." Came the deep velvety voice of the silhouette with the glowing red eyes. "You had not yet thought of sending me into the battlefield."

Integra closed her eyes, sighing. "And that is just another mistake of mine, keeping you confined to the basement and attempting to off midians' with only my soldiers because my father had managed to do so for twenty years."

"You were green, still raw, and maturing. You have not yet thought these things through."

"I know that." She huffed, turning her head to lock eyes with the creature. "Still. I only kept you here out of concern for my men, and because I had listened to the rebuttals of the round table concerning you."

They feared him. They had wanted to incarcerate him once more, as her father had done.

"He is a demon, a monster, a menace. He cannot be trusted!" Sir Irons had bellowed.

"He'll eat you alive the moment your off guard! Be sure to sleep heavily armed!" Sir Penwood had cried.

"He'll slaughter us all if you dispatch him, Sir. We cannot contain a vampire of his kind!" Her men spoke hysterically over one another, as they busted into her office the day she had finally made her decision to use her servant, the way he was meant to be used. As a weapon of Hellsing.

But what stayed in her memories from that year most of all, was her than caretaker, now butler's advice.

"He is temptation, My lady. He will try to invoke false feelings within you. As he had tried to do with your father… And as he done so with me many years ago. Do not let him play with your mind. And most importantly, do not ever let him touch you." Walter's last bit was of the day she had left the manor without any guard. After she had returned.

She had arrived late at night, with her long blonde hair frazzled, damp, and sticking to her cheeks. Her arm linked with her vampire servant's as he, like a gentleman, led her through the grand front door with a red umbrella in hand. It was an odd sight for her manor employees to behold. It was a frightening sight for Walter to witness.

"Why does the past plague your thoughts so?" Said vampire stepped out of the shadow's, the beam of moonlight from her window made his pallid skin ghostly, almost ethereal. His ebony locks defied gravity, swaying, and snaking about his body.

"I always think about the past, I fixate on the wrongs I had done, So, that I may never do it again." She turned to face him fully. His form lacked his usual blood red duster, and that equally red wide brimmed hat of his, only clad in the old-fashioned suit he had worn during those Victorian times when he reigned as Count Dracula.

He chuckled halfheartedly. "That's rather unhealthy."

She shrugged, before fixing him with an icy glare. "I am also still disappointed with you."

"Oh?" He raised a black brow, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"The last hunt. Seven of my soldiers were gravely injured, all because you wanted to play cat and mouse with that pathetic excuse of a vampire."

His ruby eyes glinted mischievously as he recalled the hunt. "But my master, it was them who wanted to play cat and mouse, they ran from me. I only sought to silence them as you had ordered, so I pursued the chase."

Integra narrowed her eyes, folding her arms, and straightening her spine. Wrapped in only a towel, she still extruded authority.

That fact excited him. She could see the diamond shine from the filaments of his living hair as it reached out for her, stopping only when the dark tendrils were a hairbreadth's away.

"I will not tolerate any of your tripe. Any injury done to my men, is another failure on my part too. They are mine, they are my responsibility. And as their head commander, they look to me to keep you in control."

The vampire bowed his head in submission, though that insufferable smirk did not leave his face. "I will be more careful around your human servants, my master."

"See that you are."

He brought his head up only a fraction to meet her glacious blue gaze. Darting his tongue out to wet his lips. Integra watched the gesture with lidded eyes.

"May I… Make up it you? If I am not to be punished, my master, then surely you can grant an ill favor for my insubordination."

An ill favor. A sin. Integra's demeanor softened a bit. Her icy glare melting away, becoming warmer, as did her face. She stiffly turned her back to him. "… It is late."

His dark chortle made her ever more hesitant. "Is it? I haven't noticed."

"I must awake early. I need my rest…"

"Yes, you do." He whispered over the shell of her ear, looming over her small wiry frame. She had not heard him move, she never does. He did not cast a shadow for he was one. His breath was cold. She shivered involuntarily.

"Let me… help you rest. Integra." Her name was a husky growl from his lips. Laced with need, want and impatience. "Use me."

Temptation itself. Integra sighed. She did need to sleep, she was only human, and there was only four hours left until dawn. Her vampire would never try to overstep his boundaries, in fact the seals of his gloves prevented that. But he would surely tease her relentlessly should she reject his advances.

She didn't want too, though. And he sensed that as well. She was as needy as he.

So, she placed the robe she held back into her armoire; then boldly removed her hand holding the towel, it fell into a white heap on the floor. She couldn't suppress the smirk tugging on her lips when she heard his sharp intake of breath. He did not require breathing, and yet, in her presence he always did it. Perhaps it was out of habit. Or perhaps she made him forget he was truly undead sometimes.

"Please."

She turned to face him once more, nude as the day she was born. He had dropped to his knee before her as a servant would his queen, with his head bowed deeply, and his scarlet gaze set at her feet. His dark hair whipped about his face, daring to ensnare her but never doing so, for he willed it not.

"Please, my master… May I touch you? May I feel your warm skin against these cold dead hands?"

She regarded him coolly. But inside she was burning. A hot molten pool settled deep within her lower region while within her breast, butterflies fluttered.

Her count. Her vampire.

Mine.

"You may."

She had expected him to shoot up, and envelope her in his darkness, expected to feel those cold dead lips peppering her skin. But he instead, looked up at her with that maddening grin of his, pointed fangs glinting in the moonlight.

He got on both hands and knees, and he crawled to her. All the while keeping his scarlet gaze on hers. The shadows that were an extension of his hair, curled around her right foot, and up her calf, trapping her. Then his hands came, gloved as they were with the curse that bound him to the Hellsing family singed into them, softly upon the backs of her thighs.

Integra shivered again as he pressed his cool cheek against her flat belly, exhaling. His alabaster skin contrasted greatly against her own honey brown tone. She carefully threaded her fingers through his dark mane, to which he purred delightfully.

"My master. Your scent stirs me, your blood calls to me. I wish to taste you."

"My blood is off limits." She was curt even as she smoothed his unruly hair. "You know this."

He hummed whilst nuzzling her stomach. "Then, allow my tongue to worship you elsewhere…"

In one swift movement, he threw one of her legs over his shoulder, Integra let out a girlish yelp nearly falling over, one of her arms shot out to steady herself against the armoire behind her. It shook from the sudden impact, the count's body held her up, one of his long arms snaked around buttocks to her lower back. He pressed a chaste cold kiss upon the inside of her thigh.

"Ah…" She groaned.

He knelt lower and continued to lavish her skin with frigid open mouth kisses, languidly trailing the tip of his tongue up the juncture of her thigh then down again. The cooling wet sensation was not lost to Integra, she was fighting to keep her stoic façade, but failing miserably.

Integra's lips trembled, only the faintest hint of a whimper left her, as her free hand wound itself back into his hair. Her body felt too hot, and she was beginning to burn and ache from all the blood flow below. Her breasts heaved, and her nipples tightened from the pleasure he was invoking upon her.

She could feel those sharp deadly teeth beneath his lips as he moved his mouth in such an enticing manner. While he did tease her, he never broke through her skin, however. Never took it upon himself to indulge in her blood, because she did not wish it.

To him, her virgin blood was the nectar of the gods. Her body the forbidden fruit. Only when she allowed him to —"Oh!"—indulge himself, was when he bared his fangs and licked, and bit into that tawny flesh of hers.

"My Count." Her voice was husky, and she was just on the tip of that metaphorical precipice. She wanted to fall now. Needed too. The ache was too much.

'Countess.' His dark baritone whispered into her mind. 'Tell me what you want, voice your desire to me. Let me hear your pleading voice.'

She nearly growled at him. Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing did not beg. But she was not so cruel as too order him to grant her release, no matter what sexual thrill he'd get from it.

"P-please." She spoke through gritted teeth, not because It hurt her pride, but because he was nuzzling the skin just above her womanhood and going lower pass the trimmed thatch of blonde where she wanted to feel his mouth the most.

"I ache right here," She breathed, tightening her grip in his writhing hair, directing his head to that spot.

"Make it stop." She almost detested how whiny her voice sounded, but it couldn't be helped.

His laughter echoed in the recesses of her mind. 'With pleasure, my Countess.'

His mouth descended upon her heated flesh, and she keened, shutting her eyes, basking in the wet coolness.

"Oh…"

He rumbled his own enjoyment, a low animalistic growl coming deep from within his chest. He reveled in her taste, in her heady scent. In her warmth. His tongue snaked from between his wet lips to tease her swollen clit, flicking the pebbled flesh.

"Ah!" Integra threw her head back, her mouth ajar. Attempting so desperately to keep her voice down, less she might alert someone in the manor.

'No, my Countess. My sweet master. Don't rob me of your beautiful voice, I want to hear you come undone. There is no one to hear your screams of pleasure but me.'

His silken grumble came through the hazy fog her mind was becoming. His tongue grew longer, and more feverish, as he licked, and flicked and buried his face between her legs to worship her treasure.

Her thighs trembled, and she found herself rocking against him to match the quick tempo of his tongue. She felt the barest point of a fang graze against her sensitive folds, and almost jerked away in response.

"N-no teeth!" Her voice was high and shrill, and breaking at the end. He chuckled against her, placating her frayed nerves with a slow kiss against the inner juncture of thigh. Trailing those slow kisses back to her aching desire, where he languidly traced his tongue against her opening, before delving into her hot channel.

Integra opened her mouth in a silent scream. She rocked desperately against his lips and tongue, hearing those obscene noises as he sucked, seeking to draw out her orgasm. His shadows curved, and embraced her quaking body, encircling her breasts, teasing her taut nipples, and flicking her blonde tresses that came loose from her bun away from her face.

A single ruby red eye opened from within the mass of shadows, and then another, and another, for the Count wished to watch his Countess come undone.

"Yes," She hissed, "Oh, oh! Alucard… I'm almost…!"

She bared her teeth, sucking in a breath, then letting it all out in one long groan. Her vampire lapped at her release greedily. Integra felt gravity take her as she snapped below. But he had her trembling form in his grip, and in his darkness that hugged her almost like a lover. Her long platinum hair came loose from its hold, falling over them both, tickling his neck, and shielding the look of bliss on her face.

'Countess…'

With one last lingering kiss against her quivering thighs. He removed her leg from his shoulder and willed his shadows to dissipate. She fell, but her ever faithful servant was there to catch her.

In a swift motion he scooped her up, possessively cradling her against his chest. Placing his chin atop her head, so her face was hidden against his neck. Her long hair fell all around them in a river of platinum, brushing against his knees and the floor.

"Alucard?" She stirred in his hold. He shushed her, carefully standing to his full height with his precious master in his arms. He brought her to the forgotten bed at the far side of the bedroom, manipulating his shadows to bring down the coverlet. He gently laid her limp body onto the bed, then covered her nakedness with as many blankets as he could. He must shield her nudity from his lecherous gaze, less he got ideas.

She squirmed underneath the thick sheets, her blue eyes open but unfocused as if fighting off the exhaustion that threatened to consume her.

"Alucard?"

"I'm here." The vampire reached out to brush her blonde fringes away from her eyes. "Sleep now, my master. A new day awaits you."

She caught his wrist before he could move away, and leisurely brought it to her mouth, where her lips brushed against the bluish vein protruding from underneath his pale skin, just below his white glove.

"Thank you."

She could have sworn she heard the count swallow thickly. She mumbled something to him, too weary to even pick up on what she was saying.

"As you wish... My Countess." She heard him say. She was too tired. Her mind and body succumbing to sweet slumber. Just as she felt her bed dip from another added weight.

It was those blasted birds that awoke her. Their incessant chirping right outside her window grated on her ears. Integra groaned, her eyes peeling open expecting to greet the cheerfully bright ray of sunrise; only to see a dark room. Integra blinked. She turned her head, the curtains concealed the sunlight, entrapping her in the darkness. Only lines of yellow light shone through the small gaps onto the floor.

Had she drawn the curtains before she went to bed? Her brow wrinkled, she couldn't remember. She tried to get up but there was a weight on her sternum. Odd. She tried to get up again, but something slithered down her leg which caused her to flop back down.

What the…

She had just now noticed the very large lump that was situated atop her body… And, the long, long legs that were hanging off her bed.

Integra peeked under the covers, and just as she had expected, there was her count, with his cheek pressed between her breasts, and his mouth partially open, revealing his sharp teeth. One of his arms was draped across her legs and the other was hanging off the side of the bed. It seemed he was far too big and spindly for even a queen-sized mattress.

He was quite literally sprawled like a corpse on top of her. She couldn't help but snort at that. But why was he in her bed? She must have invited him in her delirium. Alucard would never breach his master's personal space… less she asked it of him.

"Alucard." She called to him softly. "You can't stay here, Walter would be here any minute with my breakfast."

He did not stir. He did not even snore. He was quite literally dead to the world. Literally.

Integra sighed. Absentmindedly petting his hair that was now shortened in length, his hair immediately responded to her touch, the dark tendrils wrapping around her wrist to keep her there. Yet her dear Count slept on.

"I wonder… If you can dream." She toyed with the active tendrils. "And If you can dream, what do you dream of, who do you dream of?"

He had no answer.