Walter C. Hellsing

Several of you asked for this, so I did it. Hope you enjoy.
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I wanted to take her out of that dress. Alas, she didn’t know that, and before I could collect her from the lavatory, she already had it off. Her smugness at having removed the bridal gown, alone, said worlds about what sort of woman I married. Firstly, she didn’t need help. Secondly, she wanted the “damned thing” off.

I’ve loved her for years. I loved her before it was legal for me to love her. I don’t blame myself much for being a dirty old man; Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing would tempt the dead. She did tempt the dead; rather, the Undead. Neither Alucard nor Seras could control themselves well around her. Seras, I would tolerate. The moment Alucard attempted to seduce her, however, I’d cut him to ribbons.

“When do we leave in the morning, Walter?” she asks me, sitting on the end of the bed to remove those lovely white stockings. Her voice is as smooth as new window glass. She means to make me think she isn’t affected by our marriage. Her body betrays her, however. She is wound tightly, and her hands shake. A few moments ago she had eyes only for me. Now, she keeps those beautiful pools of blue on her work.

I smile inside. She is every inch a queen. I have always treated her as such and I always will. Nevertheless, she is now my queen. I may lay her head upon velvet pillows, but I’ll lay her body any which way I choose.

“We leave early,” I tell her, moving closer. I’m gauging her reaction to my advance, watching for signs of her heightened nerves. I haven’t had her since the night she proposed to me. I’ve teased her, promised to make her writhe in ecstasy. She’s anxious. I can see it in the flesh of her lovely, straining neck. Her pale, perfect back is straight and rigid.

The Hellsing Queen gives me a little frown of impatience, turning from her stubborn stockings to give me a very mild glare. “What sort of answer is that?” she asks.

“The proper one,” I reply, “and, the only one you need concern yourself with.” I remove my tie, wondering when she’ll figure out the clasps on her garter belt.

“What?” she asks, and it is a dare. I must explain myself to her satisfaction or suffer the consequences.

“I will wake you, as I always do,” I explain, not apologizing for taking control over her. I drop my tie to the floor. Since I’m the one who’ll pick it up tomorrow, I have the right to litter her plush carpeting with clothing. I have the right, factually, to litter her carpeting with our bodies. “My duties haven’t stopped because I married you, Integra.” They’ve grown, actually, but I don’t mind even the slightest bit.

At the sound of her Christian name, she loses that pretty, defiant stare. I always address her as ‘Sir Integra’, or, simply ‘Sir.’ I have the greatest respect for her knighthood. If anyone deserves the title of ‘Sir’, it is she. Still, she will not be ‘Sir’ in this bedroom. Here, she is a woman first whether she likes it or not. She is my wife when she occupies that bed.

Her vampiric almost-lover made of meal of her on this very bed. I could kill him for his audacity. He’ll not have her again. If I don’t make sure of that, Seras will.

“Indeed, your duties haven’t changed,” she murmurs, attacking her garter snaps again. “Goddamn it! How do these clasps work?”

I twitch a finger and slice both sets of ribbons cleanly. She’ll never have that lovely garment back on her body, so I can ruin it with impunity. I liked the idea of ruining her entire outfit. If only she’d worn a little eyeliner or mascara; I’d love to see it running down her face while I fuck her. But, she’s magnificent without any sort of paint.

Integra watches her problem get excised neatly. Her lips, her full, beautiful lips move into a small smile. Suddenly, her shyness returns, as does the pale coral blush she displayed during our wedding ceremony. “I wondered…” She trails off and doesn’t finish.

I stand in front of her and remove my jacket, forcing her eyes to either move to my face or stare at my crotch. “You wondered what, Integra?” I asked quietly, but I knew what she would have said had her courage not fled. She’d wondered if I could undress her with my wires, perhaps even imagined how I might render her naked. And, if she’d imagined it, she wanted it.

I always give the queen what she wants.

“Never mind.” She stands, and I take a long moment just to look at her smooth, feminine flawlessness. Over the years of her adulthood I’ve treasured every accidental glimpse of her flesh. The flash of a perfect shoulder. The valley between her breasts if she’s careless with her dressing gown after a bath. Her skin is polished alabaster, stretched over trim muscle. She is so very fair that her veins are easily mapped.

Her nerve has returned. Chin lifted high once more, she puts her hands to my cummerbund. Her fingers slide over my waist. With precision, she gets the fastener to relent, and down it goes. I smile. She didn’t know how to manage her own stockings, but she knows male dress very well. However, her bravado to undress me is failing; she’s still shaking.

She wasn’t this nervous when she proposed, or when she took me to her bed the first time. She hadn’t cared about my age. At that point she acted as a Hellsing needed to act. She required a husband, a husband she could trust, so that she might have an heir. She chose me because I was the perfect choice. It was business. It was a business that I showed her could also be a pleasure. And, she’d enjoyed me even with my wrinkled skin. But, I was an old man, then. I’m not old anymore.

She’s looking up at me now. I see she’s thinking exactly what I was just thinking. “Walter,” she whispers before swallowing hard. “I’m anxious, and I know you can see that.”

“Yes.” I start on my shirt buttons, keeping her eyes. “You’re afraid of enjoying yourself. My breaking your hymen was a business transaction. This time it’s about intimacy.”

She blinks and nods. My queen is ever willing to be honest with me. She lies to everyone else if it’s required, even to herself, but she never tells me a falsehood. I have ever and always been given this honor, and it relieves me that she will keep to it. “My father warned me to not marry badly,” she says, and I clearly recall hearing him say that to her many times before he died. “He could never disapprove of you,” she adds.

Her opinion makes me smile broadly. Her father could indeed disapprove of me wedding and bedding his little girl. No one would have ever been good enough. It’s touching that she would think otherwise. “He would have slit my throat,” I correct her. At least, he would have tried. With my abilities in his way, Hellsing probably would have slipped me poison. It would have been the sneakiest, most effective way of dealing with me.

Her eyelashes flutter for just a second. A small frown appears on her forehead. “Why do you think so, Walter?”

“You don’t imagine your father wanted to think about who would eventually claim his perfect daughter.” I remove my cufflinks and strip the shirt off, watching her eyes move over my chest. “He knew me for what sort of monster I am, Integra. He trusted me to keep you safe, though.”

Integra, smiling takes her attention back to my chest. “I’ve always known I could trust you, Walter.”

I would do nothing on this earth to contravene her few faiths. She had confidence in her religion, in her family’s creed, and in me. The first two faiths could fail, but I felt determined to never fall short. That resolve kept me calm and composed no matter how she forgot her manners and ordered me about like a possession. Without it, I would have snapped years ago and taken her by whatever means necessary.

My mind dwells in very dark places. For a moment only, I let the proof of that surface behind my eyes. Let her take the first step in understanding that Walter C. Hellsing nee Dorneaz, is not entirely the man she thought she knew. I have no intention of hiding myself from her now that she wears that ring on her finger.

Her rate of respiration accelerates markedly. I watch how her breasts heave against that delicate, lacy brassiere. Her eyes are so wide and deep I could dive into them. She’s seen inside of me, a mere glimpse, but it’s enough to send her heart slamming. I want to see it moving her skin. A flick of my hand cuts elastic straps, and she releases just the smallest, almost-successfully-aborted pant of surprise.

Most women enjoy a bit of risk. Integra Hellsing is no exception. She is, in fact, more addicted to danger than anyone I know. She is determinedly cold in order to counteract this desire for war and threat, and she balances herself very well. But, cold reason and breechless orders don’t satisfy her. At her soul she wants threat, combat, to pit herself against insurmountable odds. I know because I am just like her.

The moment I shift toward her, she grabs her bravery and holds it between us like a holy shield. She does not move to cover herself or to salvage her undergarment. “Marrying me didn’t give you carte blanche,” she says in that frozen, educated voice I know and admire.

How true. She has always been mine. The night she asked me to be the father of a Hellsing heir, I thought God had rewarded me for my fortitude. I’d spoken to him many nights, at many activities, asking him to give me strength against my base desires for Integra Hellsing. “Keep me strong,” I prayed while ironing her crisp, white shirts, unable to stop imagining her in them. “Don’t let me look at her too long,” I entreated when serving her tea. “Please, my Lord, keep me from touching her,” I asked when helping her with her coat. Surely, God had me in mind when she offered me her body and her name.

“I don’t lay any more claim to you now than I always have,” I murmur in return to her declaration, cutting the thin material at her hip bones. If she parts her legs at all, her wispy little knickers will fall to her ankles.

And, ahhh, there it is. She understands me, and, suddenly clued to how much I’ve always wanted her, she has no idea what to do or say. Her stance is motionless even while she fights for air. Pulse throbbing in her throat, she claps her eyes firmly to mine for the very, very first time. Yes, Integra. I am a man.

“You forget yourself,” she says, voice hard and clipped. It is an attempt to back me down. It always worked for her in the past, and she has nothing to lose by trying now. “This is a partnership, not ownership.” She states this with absolute conviction, and though I disagree with her, I cannot help but feel the power of her will.

I intend to obey her without question in all matters, as I always have done, but I will not back down in here. By submitting herself to marriage, to motherhood, she will surrender herself to me. Yes, I must resort to mind games at first, I know. I don’t want her riled and confrontational. I want her slightly afraid but receptive.

I don’t answer her. To argue is gauche. It’s best to put her misconception on display, to show her the pleasure in admitting defeat.

I reach for her, tangling my fingers in her hair. It is blonde silk, fine and shining in the muted light. I feel her arms coming up between us. She isn’t strong enough to push me away; she knows this, yet she must put up some resistance. Slowly, I begin working out the cunning plait Seras created. My friend understands Integra’s natural beauty as well as I, and I hate to undo her work, but I want to see my wife’s hair loose and unrestrained.

“Do you remember when I stopped brushing your hair for you?” I ask quietly.

My topic change momentarily throws her. She blinks past a little aggression as she thinks backward. “I was seven,” she answers.

I nod.

At seven, Integra Hellsing could and did do much more than most children. When she passed into her frenetic, puberty-drenched years, she channeled that competence into work, stopped obeying feminine impulse and convention. At the time, I’d rued the suppression of her womanhood, though I’d well understood it. She couldn’t have become the leader of Hellsing, a man’s organization, without cutting away the lace and frills.

At seventeen she’d taken my breath away. Lithe and determined in her men’s suits, testing herself day in and day out, challenging anyone to disobey her authority and ruthlessly eliminating all hindrances. She’d chosen her father’s predilection for cigars and fine alcohols as well as his imposing manner. I merely flexed to allow her changes, supported her in anything and everything that she required. To do less would dishonor her.

I hadn’t thought of her as a child in years. This was another place Alucard and I deviated from each other. He had timelessness on his side, and would always see Integra as the child he rescued. He didn’t have the perspective I did, for I was his master’s constant companion.

I back her toward the bed. “You still own me, Integra,” I whisper. “Give me an order.”

Her response is immediate. “Stop,” she tells me.

It takes all that I have to heed that command. I feel I am vibrating with effort. It doesn’t confuse me that this feels like our first time to her, or that she clings onto her mastery of me with both hands. She needs to be in control. I’ll allow her a bit of it for the moment. She must be handled carefully. When she is exhausted by meeting the demands of something she knows nothing about, of sex and closeness, then I will show her men actually are good for something.

My queen draws a shaky breath and sits on the bed. Her retreat eliminates her clothing. I watch, avid in attention, as she moves upward to take the middle of the mattress. Feigning ease, she lets her arms drop to her sides. “Finish undressing,” she orders.

I toe off my shoes and socks then make slow work of the trousers. I don’t wear underwear and never have.

Integra looks at me. She wants to stare, yet she can’t bring herself to ogle me in a vulgar way. I appreciate that mine is the first cock she’s ever seen, and even then only the once. So, I take myself in hand and casually, easily, bring blood there with a few, long strokes. I’m not ridiculously large but neither am I small. Once erect and interested I’m fairly hefty.

My self-attention fascinates her. She wets her lips with a swipe of her pink tongue. Her equally pink nipples harden, and I want to put them in my mouth one by one and suck on them until she comes.

Inspiration strikes. I assume the smallest, subtlest pose, letting my youthened muscles ripple. I now have the body that I used to acutely miss, a body that allowed me to do whatever I wanted. There is no reason not to use it for her stimulation. “Would you like to explore, Integra?” I ask, careful not to put too much longing or conversely, too little interest in my tone. “I’m here for your use, after all.”

And, I truly am.

“Come closer,” she tells me, sitting straight.

She is so fit of body that she doesn’t bulge anywhere but where she should. She is perfect. It takes me a long four seconds to shake off my admiration and approach. It thrills me when she reaches for my straining flesh. Her hand carefully wraps around the shaft. An insistent tingling begins in my balls. Again she wets her lips. I imagine plunging between them and have to close my eyes to ward off the vivid mental picture.

I am a master at denying myself, but a man can only take so much stimulation. Integra is enough stimulation to drive me mad.

“You’re… lovely, Walter,” she says softly, and I hear such painful truth in those few words. She only imagines that I am, really; she has no one to compare me to. Still, her opinion does matter to me. If she can find beauty in my form, let her.

When next I venture a look, she is staring at the end of my cock. A drop of pre-come is poised to fall, yet doesn’t. Her hand comes out. I watch her smooth-nailed fingertip come out and collect that slick fluid. Just the slight drag of her fingerprint to my slit is enough to make more.

Taste me, I chant inwardly. She slowly, slowly obliges, putting the end of her slender digit in her mouth. I see her assessing. She finds me neither pleasant nor unpleasant; I surmise that by her lack of facial movement. Still, Integra could keep a stone face under the worst of circumstances if so motivated.

“I’m sure I don’t taste as good as you do,” I murmur, startling her. I’ve had a lot of pussy in my mouth, being of a predilection to really enjoy women’s juices, but hers is just incomparable. She is clean and musky and entirely Integra, and only a fool couldn’t appreciate such a heady combination.

“Salt,” she says in a quiet, thoughtful manner. “You taste of salt.”

I taste of murder and blood, and she knows it. Yet, she reduces me to textbook flavors. It’s a self-defense that I cannot condemn. She is by nature an artist, poetic and musical, and she squashes those interests and talents down in order to run Hellsing. That’s fine. She’ll have plenty of time to explore her less combative personality aspects when she’s a mother.

She’s surprised when I push her backward. I’m not so quick that she feels immediately threatened, but not so slow that she has a chance to move away. “Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing,” I whisper, hovering over her astride. “You never want praised for your beauty, but you are the most beautiful woman.”

“Walter, that’s utter dross,” she says.

Well, I knew she wouldn’t accept the compliment. She hates having attention paid to her feminine beauty. It didn’t matter to me; she is the most beautiful woman.

She waiting for me to make a move on her, but I won’t yet. She’s too tense. “Integra…”

“Yes?” She answers too quickly.

“We don’t have to do this…” I make the offer, but it’s a bluff. She’s not getting out of here until I’ve been inside her. It nearly killed me to wait this long. She only felt impatience, curiosity, while I trembled with lust night after night. I’d already waited eleven years for her.

“Don’t coddle me, Walter.” She speaks with harsh determination, her features drawn tight. Even now she is afraid of seeming weak. Her trust in me apparently only goes so far.

Wise of her.

“You are not the leader of Hellsing right now,” I tell her, watching the storm clouds gather in her cerulean eyes. “You are my wife. No one is going to see your pleasure but me, Integra.”

My little speech doesn’t relax her at all. She frowns at me. For a moment I get the impression she’d like nothing more than to put a sharp knee bone in my balls, for the unpardonable sin of implying she’s a woman. I’ve insulted her name, too, though certainly not on purpose.

“I’m never not a Hellsing, Walter,” she tells me, confirming my suspicion. She takes a quick look down, between our bodies, settling her gaze on my raging hard-on. “That… doesn’t change anything.”

I can’t help smiling. Maybe my ego is a little over-inflated. “You’re only a woman, here,” I argue. “One would think you’d welcome the reprieve, the chance for simplicity. But, no matter.” With that, I drop to my back and drag her to straddle me.

She sits atop awkwardly, flushed and unsure. “You want me on top?” she asks a bit snidely. “I thought you wanted to be in control.”

I neither confirm nor deny her words, just grip her by the waist and bring her toward my face. I’m strong enough to easily lift her this way, and she’s shocked by that for some reason. When I settle her over my mouth, she makes a strange sound. I’ve never heard that sort of squeaky panic from her, and I like it.

Oh, God. She’s slick and fragrant and hot. I push her delicate folds aside, then bring them back together and tug at them with my lips. She shudders and gasps. I hear her clamp onto the headboard.

Hard to be the leader of Hellsing now, isn’t it, my fair and lovely queen?

“Walter!”

This is only her second time with the delight of cunnilingus. She’s not yet accustomed to this sort of pleasure, and I hops she never grows used to it. I want her breathy, husky moans every single night. I tease her clit by moving the skin at one side of it with my tongue, a quick, forceful vibration that I know will get her attention.

“Walter, it’s too much!” Her hands come down to my hair and pull. I don’t stop. It isn’t too much; she’s afraid to let go and enjoy herself. Last time, liquor helped ease her nervousness. She isn’t getting any this time. I want all her senses functioning perfectly.

She hunches over. I feel her hips twitch as she aborts a perfectly good, instinctive grind. I’m not directly stimulating her little pearl, and she wants it touched despite all her protests. Not yet, my dear. Patience… I circle around and around, savoring her wetness and spreading it. She groans long and low, and her fingers jerk. She almost, almost forced my head. Before I am finished with her, she’ll not hesitate to grab her pleasure.

I gather her slick nectar on a finger, sliding it in her bottom just to the bed of my fingernail. She arches backward, shocked out of her defensive hunch. At that moment I latch onto her clit and suck. “Walter… Oh, my God!” Of their own will, her legs part farther.

Oh, she’s sweet. I could eat her alive. I pump my finger a little, keeping her in focus. She’s never had anything or anyone in this tiny hole, and she can’t decide if she likes it or not. I’m so hard now I feel I’m about to explode.

I gentle my movements to allow her the orgasm that I feel shaking her legs. Hoarse and screaming, she nearly rips out a handful of my hair. I love it. I love reducing her to this, seeing her enjoyment override her modesty.

Finished, panting, she collapses. I pick her up and tumble her onto her back, crouching over. I’ve caged her in, and she’s only barely aware of it. Eyes unfocused, she attempts to gather her wits. My name is whispered. I look at those lips and cannot resist covering them with mine. She didn’t allow kissing last time, but she will now.

The jolt of our mouths meeting causes us both to groan. She drags her hand through my much-abused hair, catching the elastic closure and tugging it out. I feel her slender fingers combing the untidy mass even while she allows me to devour her lips. Our tongues battle for dominance. She is hot, so hot, and I taste the flavor of power mingling with her favorite cigar. How often I’ve dreamed of having just this moment…

I jerk as she trails a short, sharp nail down my back. She’s intuited I like to be hurt. Clever, clever woman. Dig harder. Bring blood, I beg silently. But, she doesn’t know me that well yet. She stops just above the curve of one buttock. Her hand spreads out. Curiosity overwhelms decorum. She grips me lower, feels the muscle.

I break from her mouth, nipping her jaw and traveling upward to her ear. “Do you like having a beast in your bed?” I ask, whispering, taking her earlobe in my teeth. “You know I’m going to fuck you through this mattress, don’t you?”

She gives a little shudder, and I know she’s preparing to fight me again. I pin her wrists to the sheets, enjoying her struggle. She’ll never give up. I adore that about her.

Once again our eyes meet. She looks at me like she’s never seen me before, and I suppose she hasn’t. I’ve been quiet, in her peripheral, obeying her slightest whims without question. She’s taken me for granted, like any good Hellsing leader will do with the underlings.

Do you believe yet the real monster isn’t haunting the cellars, Integra?

She rallies herself. “Walter,” she says lowly. “How long have you wanted me?”

I smile. “Long enough to make an ordinary man insane,” I answer. “Eleven years.”

She swallows. “I… didn’t know. You gave no sign…”

“Why would I have acted? I was old and unworthy.” I lean in to smell her hair and the scent of nervous desire in her sweat. “I couldn’t wrap your perfection around my seventy year old cock.”

“But now you can?” She struggles against me one more time before relaxing. It isn’t surrender, not yet. She’s just gathering her strength. “You’ve been hiding from me, and I don’t like it.” The force of the orgasm I gave her has taken a bit of her aggression. She states her feelings with cold purpose, not hot anger. Still, I can sense her disappointment. She thought she knew me. And, she’s not through thinking about this. It’s going to simmer in the back of her mind for a very, very long time, coming to the occasional boil.

“You’ll like the real me, too,” I assure her. “You favor keeping monsters. You don’t need magic and wards to keep me in my place.” I pull her wrists over her head and use one hand to restrain her. “I’m your property, Integra; the only difference between then and now is that I intend to own you, too.” I get a hand under her knee and throw her leg to my shoulder, baring her wide open. The tip of me barely touches her opening.

“Walter, you-.”

She would have said much more, but I push into her slowly. She arches, shivering and gasping at my invasion. She’s so tight and hot that my eyes want to roll back. The first time she let me inside her I almost disgraced myself. This time threatens the same. I fight for a bit of control, just a scrap that will let me hang on. It’s sinful that any woman be this good. It’s my duty to give her an heir, but I’d hoped to give us both a great deal of enjoyment first.

She wriggles her wrists from my grip and slaps my face, hard. “Walter, goddamn you! That’s for concealing yourself,” she hisses. “Hiding in plain sight and coveting me for over a decade!” She grabs my shoulders so hard I can feel bruises blossoming. “You had no right!” Her venom is at odds with her body, for she’s getting wetter. Her hips move ever so slightly toward mine.

She’s enjoying this, and I knew she would.

I finish my first thrust, forcing not to stop, to slow, or even to speed up. She isn’t guiding this with her anger. “Whatever you say,” I reply. It is my standard answer, and under these circumstances, I’m sure it’s infuriating to hear. “Your command has always been my wish.”

“Then get off me!” she snarls, heaving upward and failing to dislodge me. When that doesn’t work, she brings up her hands to rake bloody gashes in my chest. The pain is magnificent.

“No.” I pull back, still unhurried. This is my duty, happy as it is. I’m not God; I can’t accomplish Immaculate Conception.

I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t shoot me the moment I roll off of her.

“You should have said something, given me a sign!” Were you going to the grave without telling me?” she demands. She throws the question out like a dare.

“Yes.” No reason not to be honest now.

My answer stops her ruination of my chest. She searches me for falsehood while I’m buried in her to the hilt, and I find I can’t move. Her eyes glitter cold and hard, but as I watch, they soften. “You…”

I cover her mouth with mine again, pushing my tongue inside in time with a good, hard, lower invasion. I don’t want her pity for Walter C. Dorneaz. I want her writhing and burning for Walter C. Hellsing. She battles me, finally giving in to biting. I’m bleeding into her while I thrust. It’s so appropriate I almost come.

She becomes pliant under me. Her arms rise up and drape over my shoulders. She spreads her fingers out, holding, gripping, feeling me. It is bliss to have her explore, to want to know me. Her passion is beautiful. I need it, need to have it, and I’ll never fail to accept it when she offers.

“Harder,” she urges, speaking against my lips. “Put your back into it, Walter.”

I grin and nip at her throat. Obligingly, I provide what she wants. I’m only too happy to give my hips the exercise; I’m boiling in the groin and desperate to empty my balls in her. I spread her to the limit, wanting her to feel my force. She meets my strikes as well as she can, but I’ve rendered her mostly helpless. We’re rocking the bed now. I hear it knock into the dresser. Something falls and breaks.

A sheet of paper wouldn’t fit between our bodies, but I manage to get a hand underneath. She’s going to come with me. I insist. “Integra,” I murmur against her skin, pausing to taste her sweat. She cries out as I find her clit. I sense her tension stringing out into a long, aching hover. “Integra,” I repeat, feeling her heart beating against my chest. “The name of my reason to live.”

“Walter,” she cries out, but, it is a soft wail, dragged up from the soul. She remembers almost losing me to Serum, and it hurts. But, I’m all too alive, and fucking the hell out of her.

I, as well, break a little inside. All I’ve had is my pride, and she’s stripped that away by giving up her own. How can I not tell her, when I demand so much? “It was your voice,” I admit, my tone too rough to be honestly harsh. I pound my cock into her, hitting bottom over and over, feeling my balls drum against her. “It was your voice, Integra!”

I don’t tell her the rest, because she’s already heard what I meant. I hadn’t come back from the dead because of Doctor Kayne, or Alexander Anderson. I’d come back for her.

The understanding rips through. She tightens around me so hard I lose my breath, reducing me to a burning rod and she to a swallowing mouth. I have to come inside her, have to empty my balls. I can’t-. She’s rocking and clutching-. She’s screaming-. I’m turning to liquid and I can’t… stop-.

I feel the powerful jets of my life’s force pulsing into her. One, two, three; I’m floating somewhere hot and blinding and perfect, and I can’t breathe. Four, five…six… seven; I’ve locked up and can’t move. Everything is my climax, the feel of me draining away into her. She’s still milking me, and I dimly hear her tremulous, crying approval.

Though I buckle, I manage not to fall on her. The hazy, irritating points of light overhead become candelabrum bulbs. They are blocked by Integra, crouching over me. I’m ready for anything from a kiss to a bullet, so I go ahead and admire her beautiful, full breasts and blushing skin. I must have the dreamy smile of a simpleton, for she looks at me with a touch of uncertainty.

Everything is new now, though, so uncertainty is the kindest option for her.

She straddles me and leans over. Her kiss is fervent, loving, even gentle, and it melts me. I’m ready for the slap, however, and I catch her wrist just in time. Chuckling, I roll her back underneath me. This time I leave her hands free. She can punish and abuse me all she wants.

“If I didn’t love you, Walter, I’d kill you!” she swears. She drags a pillow out from under herself and throws it at the wall. The switch terminates. We are left in cool darkness.

Smug, I let her settle under the blankets. I join her only after she’s done much huffing and complaining about my weight pinning the sheets. The moment I’m stretched out beside her, I feel her lips touch mine. “Better you show me what you are now rather than never,” she relents.

I get an arm under her and bring her close. To my joy, she is willing to let me move her at my whimsy. So, I drape her leg over my side and her arm around my neck. She tightens, then relaxes. I smile as I realize that was a hug and not a little show of aggression. “I had to show you, Integra,” I tell her. “Because, if I didn’t love you, I’d be dead already.”

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Gomez Addams: "Unhappy, darling?"
Morticia Addams: "Miserable, darling..."