30 Lemons

Pairing/Fandom: Alucard/Seras-- Hellsing
Theme: 28. The Theatre, or, "Oh, is the movie over already?" (yeah, I stretched it a bit...)
Title: "Vivaldi"
Author/Artist: Me, System Aurora
Disclaimer: Do not own. Do not sue plz.
Warnings: A little bit of WAFF, maybe? and sex in public.

OH! And this is a sequel to The Conservatory. I'm too lazy to find a link for it. But it's pretty recent, so go find it. =P lol.

It had become incredibly slow on the vampire-killing front lately. Most nights Seras ended up watching Alucard and Sir Integra play Chess then going to her coffin early. If not for the old grand piano and her Master's high post-mortem libido she was quite sure she would have gone insane.

Which is why Seras jumped at the chance to go to a concert with her Master when he mentioned it.

"Do you even know who Vivaldi is?" He'd scoffed, oddly looking pleased at the same time.

"I think so. And even if I don't, does it matter?"

He had simply laughed at her and faded from the room. However, a few days later she'd found on her bedroom table a new dress, pair of shoes, and coat. She wasn't sure if they now belonged to her or if she was borrowing something from Sir Integra (though she couldn't imagine her employer owning anything quite so feminine), but she was pleased by the prospect of having proper clothes for the occasion. She'd expected to have to wear her only sort-of nice dress, which was a very plain dark grey gown she only used to visit the cemetary.

On the night of the concert, Seras woke up before the sun had set and floated around her quarters getting ready. She didn't have any makeup or hairspray, but she did pin the sides of her hair away from her face with her jewelled hair barettes.

"How much fretting over your reflection can you really do now that you're undead, police girl?" Her Master asked from behind her.

"I'll have you know--" Seras turned around to make a witty comeback but stopped, her mouth hanging open. "M-Master?!"

He was wearing all black, from the loose old-fashioned shirt to his black cape. Seras took him in with her eyes for several minutes, enjoying seeing her Master dressed so differently.

"You look very becoming tonight, Police Girl." His eyes wandered down her neck, and Seras blushed and turned away again. The dress hung off the shoulders and had a low neckline that drew the eye to her cleavage-- not that she needed the help.

"Who picked out the dress?"

"Why, I did, of course." He sounded a bit hurt, or maybe it was surprised.

"Oh. I thought maybe Walter had helped." She shrugged.

"Put your coat on." He tossed it at her. She did, and he took her wrist. The room melted into a smaller, darker one, and Seras blinked.

"Where are we, Master?"

"A coat closet." She could see his white teeth in the dim light. Something groped her breast through the dress, and she jumped.

"Master!" She managed to keep her voice a whisper. "What are you doing?"

"It's a closet, Police Girl. If I'm not mistaken, this is proper etiquette for a closet in this era's society." He grabbed the other one, and she shook her head.

"Really, Master." She pulled away, listening at the door to make sure no one was around. "Sometimes you're impossible."

He picked her up by the waist and bit at her earlobe. "They haven't even begun to warm up yet."

She used her super-human strength to free herself, then opened the closet door. "I don't want to right now, my Master. Can we please find our seats first?"

He followed her out of the closet, though she could sense he wasn't pleased. Part of her felt guilty, but the rest was too entranced by the lovely building to care. She hurried through the gallery, eager to see everything. There were stained glass windows and portraits and lush burgundy carpet. She felt something from her Master... was it moping? Seras slowed and slipped her hand in his. It was cool and dry and much larger than hers, and she realized as she intertwined her fingers in his that they'd never held hands before. It just never seemed to fit the style of their relationship. However, now they were going on a proper "date", and it seemed only appropriate.


The sadness she'd felt in him changed to surprise then almost as quickly to amusement, but he didn't say a word to her.

"I've never done anything like this before," Seras confessed as they took their seats. "I've only ever been to a museum once."

"A true child of the night should develop their sense of culture," He mused. Seras was poring over her program and barely heard him.

Almost before she was ready (and yet she thought the minute might never come!) the musicians were warming up their instruments. Seras watched, fascinated.

It was about twenty minutes into the concert when she felt it. A soft but definite pressure on her inner thighs; a tingle in response to the music. She recognized it as her Master's psychic touch. It wandered up higher, caressing her between her legs, and her eyes widened.

"Master!" She whispered. "The people... you can't do that in public!"

"I made us invisible to everyone else." He unbuttoned his pants, and suddenly she found herself on his lap, facing him. He smelled good, like blood and wine and just a hint of dirt. He pulled her closer to him, physical fingers replacing psychic ones.

She moaned, and he covered her mouth. "We're invisible but not inaudible." His cool lips brushed her ear. "They can still hear us."

She nodded her understanding and tried to be as quiet as possible, enjoying the combined pleasure of music and her Master. They managed to finish and straighten their clothes before the ending piece-- barely.

Seras developed a strong taste for Vivaldi after that night.

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