Drake

The first one was of him in his earlier years of having the demon, and this one here's in the present.

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Moonlight is falling on her body from through the window, illuminating skin beneath a light gown and making it appear ghost-pale. The gown barely covers her, leaving tantalizing shadows and the question of anything worn underneath. Red hair is spilled across the pillow like blood, a shimmer of gold in it that appears and disappears with every movement. Blue eyes are half open and a shimmer of a smile is on her lips. Soft curves shape the light and he longs to follow them with his hands. The creature shifts under his skin; it longs to do something quite different. They both hunger for flesh in contrasting but oddly harmonizing ways; to possess and contol and take until sated.



Her smile widens slightly as she sits up, crawling across the bed and reaching out to take hold of the collar of his long shirt and pull him down. He kisses her hard and feels the demon bubbling to the surface; he forces it back into stillness on his skin. She makes a small noise and he pushes her back on the bed, following so that he's crouched over her, hands roaming over her body before slipping under her clothes and kneading into skin as if working clay. The demon shifts under his skin to move down his arm and he forces it back before she sees it or it leaves his skin. He feels something from it, not a sound or a thought, but something like an echo of a warning growl. He ignores it and slips a hand between her thighs.



The sounds she makes are music to his ears, and it's easy to imagine he's playing her as a violinist might their instrument when every move of his fingers brings a different sound. She's wet and writhing under him, fingers clutching at his shoulders, eyes shut tight and eyebrows quirked into a wonderful fight against pleasure.



Her hands slip up to tangle in his black mane, raising herself up as she forces him down into a wild kiss. Tongues slip between teeth and he suddenly tenses and takes a sharp breath as her fingers brush against the black beneath the skin on the back of his neck. He feels the dark retreat from her fingers instantly, coiling in a circle around them like a wary predator circling dangerous prey.



Her thighs are tight around his hand, one raised to rub against the hardness between his legs, and he spares a glance to the still-open curtain behind him. The full moon has laid a square of light over them, leaving the rest of the room dark, and he silently curses as he takes control of her lips again, rocking gently against her leg. It's been too damn long since he felt another's skin on his, but the light means she'll be able to see the demon's marks in full. His fingers pull her gown away from her body, cloth tearing, and the loss of the clothing only seems to arouse her more as he lowers his lips to her skin. He mouths the soft skin of her heaving breast, tongue flicking out to curl around a nipple before he moves to press his lips to the other. She shakes and whimpers as his fingers play inside her, and when her voice breaks high the sound shoots directly to his groin. He takes the skin where neck meets shoulder between his teeth, marking her, and her hands claw at his shirt as she tightens around his fingers. Her noises are sweeter than honey and a thousand times more satistfying, sending a shiver through his body though he feels as if he could melt from the heat in the room.



Before she's even stilled again he's leaning back, whipping his shirt over his shoulders and tossing it aside as if that will help cool the burning of his skin. His pants follow quickly and then he's spreading her legs, sheathing himself in her warmth in one slick thrust. She's still in the echoes of orgasm and as he pushes inside her she arches her back, fingers clinging to the sheets as something animalistic between a shriek and a moan breaks from between her lips. An almost-memory of dark things twining in carnal pleasure and the thought of blood staining his hands rushes through his mind at the same instant, and it takes several moments of arousal-hazed thought for him to realize they're from the demon. It does something like a smile at that, providing more images that are somehow more grotesque and more arousing at the same time, and he realizes with mute acceptance that they were drawn from the dark corners of his own mind and nowhere else.



His hands are braced just above her shoulders, holding her in place and supporting him as he thrusts inside of her. His body moves on its own, his entire will focused on holding the demon still inside of him, though he can feel tendrils of it breaking from his control. He leans down to kiss her hard, claiming her mouth to distract her from any movement she might see.



Then her fingers find his skin again and he gasps as she brushes over the black - intentionally or not - sending a jolt of ecstasy through him as surely as if her lips had caressed the head of his hungry cock. A burning flow as the demon shifts away from her touch again and he can't help but wonder if the skin where it sleeps feels differently to her than the skin that is still his own, but then the black tendrils are reaching out to her fingers and euphoria flies through his nerves once more.



He has to lean back to gasp for breath, sweat breaking out on his skin as he thrusts harder into her, blue eyes fixed on her and he sees the moment she realizes what she might have thought were tattoos are alive. Her eyes are hazed by bliss and maybe that's why she reaches out to them instead of drawing away as any sane person would, pressing into the black on his skin and watching as it writhes beneath her fingers. He lets out a shuddering groan and his fingers clench in the sheets beside her shoulders so that the urge to tighten them around her neck can be forestalled.



So hot, so wet, so warm and alive, she's putty in his hands as he slams into her again and again, finally letting his focus slip free of containing the demon. He feels it rush across his skin, twisting into her touch and then away again, and each time it touches her it a shot of heaven bursts through every nerve ending in his body until he finally comes with a shuddering gasp, spilling himself inside her.



His arms shake and he lowers himself onto his elbows, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her scent fills his nostrils and he breathes deep, and when he exhales a wisp of smoke is mingled with his breath. He can feel her heartbeat through her breast tight against his chest, and around him from inside her, and in the moonlit dark he can see her pulse beating strongly in her neck. He watches the skin rise and fall with each beat, strangely fascinated as it slows from wild to rest, then farther to that of sleep. He's half-lying on her shoulder as he slides a hand along her side, cupping her breast and fondling it lazily. His eyes slip back up to her neck and the almost-smile that was on his lips fades away as he sees and feels her heartbeat sluggish now, fading to erratic, and only then does he feel the burn of the demon returning through his fingertips.



He leans back, sliding out of her and settling himself astride her hips, and would swear she were only asleep if not for the near-invisible trails of black smoke rising from her body. He takes her hand - so much smaller and finer than his own - in his, her wrist bending limply as he watches with empty eyes. His other hand comes up to splay her fingers and he sets them to the middle of his chest, feeling nothing more than the faint warmth they hold and gentle pressure; none of the burning, wild arousal of before. He trails them down to where the black coils lazily in his belly and it moves tauntingly away. He frowns, but only slightly, then lets her hand fall. He stands and walks to the window, setting a cigarette between his lips and flicking a lighter to life.



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these're just my odd ideas and interpretations of a character who's only very roughly created, I've no real idea if this is actually how Drake is.