A/N: Hello people of Gone! It's me, Caris, out to post the promised Drake Drabbles! They would have been out sooner, but I was working on updating my Max Ride stuff and on my parody, Um, Poof? Maybe you've heard of it.

Anyway, since I'm actually not behind schedule for once *Le gasp!* here are the Drabbles!

Dedication: To Lover of Gone, Hyperactive Lioness, and ARandomBlonde. For suggesting these wonderful Drabbles, I officially give thee cookies!

Disclaimer: Um…I own my insanity? That's about it.

Nightmare:

Orsay's tiny fingers clench into fists as her nightmare progresses. Her eyes are squeezed shut tight, and she whispers, "Darkness, Darkness," in her sleep. At last Drake grabs his victim, taking her out of range of the dream. She wakes.

"Was it good?" he asks, scooping Orsay up into his arms.

"It was horrible." She shivers and Drake wraps his whip around her, grinning.

"Good. Now, it's my turn." Orsay tenses and whimpers as Drake lies down. Soon he is asleep, dreaming a beautifully violent nightmare just for her.

Match made in hell:

As Computer Jack stares at his bare chest, he can't help but shiver. All along his naked form are red lines, wrapping themselves around him like snakes. Chasing them are older marks; these have since turned blue and black. Some, older still, have faded and are yellow; painful reminders of once graceful dancers.

Jack knows that this, what is happening to him, is not love. It isn't even affection; it's need. It's wanting. Drake doesn't care about him.

Still, one question remains: Why him? Out of all the boys at Coates, Drake chose him. He could have had anyone…Caine would have let him pick from anyone...

But it was him that was chosen.

Perhaps because, at one time, Jack stood up to Drake. For Brianna, he'd grown a spine.

But the time for bravery had long since past. Because now Drake his calling for him. His voice echoes in the empty room, and Jack turns to his "lover" in dismay.

Because, for some reason he cannot fathom, Jack can't stop the thrilling feeling of adrenaline and anticipation that rushes through him when Drake's whip snakes around his waist, pulling him in for another painful kiss.

Whatever you say:

Drake is lying in the desert. He feels nothing but pain; pain is his world, his entity, his very being. He moans pitifully, wishing for death…

And then the pain is gone. It is replaced by a new feeling; relief.

Drake's eyelids flutter open. Lana is leaning over him, her hands pressed to his wounded side. Slowly, but surely, it heals. Drake grunts as he pulls himself up into a sitting position.

"What took you so long?" he asks, trying to stand. He falters, and Lana catches him. "Next time," he growls low in her ear, "don't leave me lying out here for so long."

Lana rolls her eyes as Drake sags against her form. "Whatever you say, Whip Hand," she murmurs as they move forward. "Whatever you say."

Pet:

As she sits by the window, Diana can remember a time when she was happy. A time when she smiled and laughed; a time when she was hopeful; when she was almost in love. She can remember these things, but can feel none of the good feelings that came with them. They've left her long ago.

The front door opens with a slam, and Diana flinches. He is home. "Diana!" he yells, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "Diana, where are you?"

Diana leaps from her perch. "Coming!"

When she enters the hallway she finds Drake standing there, his body shaking with anger, his whip twitching at his side. Swallowing her fear Diana does the only thing she can; she wraps her arms around his waist, hoping to calm him. To her surprise he relaxes, his lips lowering themselves into her hair. He kisses her neck, his normal hand tracing the outline of her stomach. Diana holds back her bile and her fury as Drake invades her once again.

Because she is his pet, and she must be obedient.

Okay, that's it! Hope you all enjoyed.

Yeah, just kidding. I'm actually going to be nice for once and post another drabble!

For Hyperactive Lioness. Because everyone deserves a daily dose of guilty pleasure.

Guilty pleasure:

Drake kisses Caine roughly, pressing himself into Caine's side. His whip is wrapped around Caine's waist, cutting off some of his air in a pleasurable pain. Caine, much to his dismay, lets out a small moan of satisfaction. Drake pulls back, panting, eyes glowing.

"Diana," he says. He doesn't need to specify what he means. Caine knows that Drake wants her gone. Permanently. That he won't rest until Diana Landris is dead.

He should be afraid of what Drake might do. But he still whispers, "No," in a defiant voice. For a moment he does fear that Drake will pull away. But soon Drake his kissing him again, hard and fierce, as if to release his pent up anger.

There are days when Caine wonders if he is being used. Used to get rid of Diana.

Most days, he simply doesn't care.

I hope you all enjoyed! I'll post again next weekend, but until then, adios! R&R, please! You'll get virtual cookies.