Work Text:
There were quite a lot of reclusive places around the Studio, to those who knew how to look. Or more accurately, to those who knew how to look and could phase through the walls. The copy of the real life Joey Drew studios was unnaturally overgrown, with tons of unnecessary half-spaces, corridors that lead to nowhere and passages that made no sense to any architect worth his salt. The rooms appeared at random, often looking barren and somewhat unfinished - many missed furniture, whole sections… And yes, at times, even doors. One of such rooms was the destination of the Ink Demon’s stroll.
His recent interaction with you sparked curiosity in him, to explore which he needed some privacy. The way your touch made him feel was interesting and quite welcomed. But since you said that it was “not appropriate” once you realized what effect you had on him, it looked like he would have to experiment on his own. He didn’t really understand why doing strange feeling things was only okay with a lover or completely alone. It sounded a little counterintuitive, to be frank. Still, you seemed pretty serious when telling him those rules, so he decided to respect them, even if he didn’t get why that would be so important.
The room he chose to settle in was strangely narrow and most likely appeared as a result of corridors and such badly fitting together to create a hollow, cut off area with nothing inside. He decided he liked it there. Tight spaces put him at ease. After shuffling to the remote corner, he sat down by a wall, propping his legs on the one opposite it. While this couldn’t look too comfortable from an outside perspective, the Ink Demon was perfectly content and cozy, despite, or maybe even thanks to being almost bent in half.
This was as private as it could get and so, he moved his hands to examine his horns.Thanks to the ink making his whole body slippery, he slid fingers with ease along their length. This caused a small, involuntary flinch. Still, that was the only result petting himself gave him. How strange. This was not only boring, but also rather… unenjoyable, irritating his body the longer he repeated the movements. Your touch felt nothing like that. Although it lasted only a short while, having you rub at his horns was captivating and pleasant. It made warmth kindle at the pit of his stomach, with sparkles that rose all the way to his chest and fluttering heart. Just thinking about it was enough to…
A purr slipped from his throat, and he curled his toes, when another stroke sent a shiver through his spine. He stopped for a moment, surprised by what just happened. Now, this was way closer to what your wandering arms did to him before. His interest piqued again, he continued the nearly abandoned activity, this time though imagining it was yours fingers caressing him.
How would it feel, to be in the center of your attention like this? How would you touch him? Gently, no doubt about that. Sweetly, as was everything you did, yes. A little playfully too, you had a few mischievous bones in your body and liked to tease him just a bit once in a while, before you would apologize with a lovely chuckle on your smiling lips. His claws stopped with the bold strokes, now barely ghosting his skin. Yes, this was definitely something you would do, toying with his wants for a bare moment, but never enough for it to become cruel. You would quickly make it up to him as well and he paused to consider what that could be in this context. Perhaps a… kiss?
Warmth creeped up his ink soaked cheeks. Now, that was too brash even for a fantasy! Despite that, the thought took roots in his mind the moment it materialized. You used to kiss him once in a while before. Usually before a goodbye, you softly pecked his forehead as you promised to come back soon, to take him from his prison the moment you came up with a plan for doing so. But what was now filling his head was a picture of a different kind of kiss, a kiss for the lovers. It was so easy, yet so enticing to imagine you pulling him down by the horns and pressing lips to his teeth. You would ask him for permission first though and he would try to sound confident, but you would see right through him with ease. Would you laugh at his embarrassment? Or would you perhaps be equally shy? Would your voice hitch a little, when you would call him by his name? His breath quickened, and he ran a hand over his face, thinking how you would feel, how you would taste. Your mouth would be soft and warm, and painted with a smile. He wouldn’t be able to kiss you back - not with the first of his mouths being only a drawing and the second having no lips to cover the teeth. Still, he would try to return the favor, licking sheepishly your cheek. And then, you would laugh and kiss him again. It would be like drinking living light, as much was certain.
He slid hands down his body, eager to explore more. You said that there are other areas that are like his horns and he was curious about finding them. What else could be pleasant? Where else could you touch him?
His collarbones tingled under his fingers and he thought about your lips traveling down from his face, brushing his neck and teasing against his shoulders. His chest and arms were rather unresponsive, but touching his stomach made him jump up and hit his head against the wall. A hurt whine made its way from his throat. Oh yes, you would certainly laugh at this as well. And then you would promise to kiss it better. He was now rubbing his horns with one hand and caressing his underbelly and hip bones with the other. As he notices, the areas where skin was stretched by sticking out bones, were especially sensitive.
This gave him an idea and he reached behind himself to move his claws along his spine. The spikes were as receptive to touch as he predicted - and perfect for you to hold on to and trace over, while you would be sitting on his lap. The very thought of your fingers drawing shapes over his body, the way you created art on paper, made him ooze with ink. It was hot, nearly boiling, as it streamed down his skin to form a constantly growing puddle, stirring and bubbling. Ah, but he hoped you wouldn't actually touch his spine, while you were hugging him outside of his imagination. If you did, he might accidentally moan like he did now. Then you wouldn't embrace him anymore. He loved your embraces.
As he continued to caress and stroke his spikes, his hands moved lower and lower, until they eventually closed on his tail. And that. That short-circuited his brain.
The mewls and purrs were now pouring from him along with the ink. Every second one was a poor attempt at speaking your name, something impossible to do with his malformed, slimy vocal cords. But in his fantasy he was able to say it perfectly, without having to ring it through the ink. Would you be happy to hear it, cried out so desperately? Would you reply in kind, whispering his name? Or would you hush him, wanting this moment between the two of you to be quiet and intimate? Whatever it would be, he'd gladly follow your footsteps. There was nothing that he wouldn't do to make you happy.
Which prompted a question - what would make you happy? Unlike him, you didn't have horns or a tail. But perhaps your torso was just as sensitive as his? Would you enjoy it if he licked your stomach and left little bite marks on your hips? He wanted to. He wished he could. If you'd allow him, he would taste and caress every inch of your beautiful body, eager to please and serve any and all whims of yours.
The flesh and bones under his fingers began losing its shape, melting into a runny, literally hot mess. For a moment, he was too lost in the dreams about you and the pleasure of his own hands. After a while though, the reality caught up to him, and the Ink Demon paused dead in his tracks. Heavy breaths were raising his chest, revibrating with the pangs of his overzealous heart. The pleasure drowned in the gooey ink, leaving behind nothing but shame. Even in the realm of fantasies, there was no way you wouldn’t get disgusted by this - the odious decomposition of his body, failing to hold its shape, and revealing to the fullest his lacking.
At the very least, he understood now why this wasn’t something meant for the eyes of others. He would wither and perish of humiliation if anyone saw him like that, barely solid and in a whole little pond of stirring ink. In a sorry attempt to regain some composition, he began grooming himself. He felt filthy. But while the act sometimes helped him to calm down, he didn’t even have it in himself to finish cleaning his face. Again his thoughts wandered toward you, this time though bringing not excitement but more self-hatred.
What was he even thinking for crying out loud?!
There was no way an angel like you could ever desire the affection of a monstrosity like him. No way that they could touch it for any other reasons than kindness and pity.
It was one thing to seek something new and curious to occupy himself with, and another to indulge in delusions. Considering, wishing for such possibilities would only make it more painful when there was no way of them ever coming to pass. He huffed and once more began making himself presentable.
Things were fine the way they were. The fact that he had found your soul was a miracle in itself. The Ink Demon was perfectly content with just being around it and reveling in any shards of your kindness that you would be willing to offer him. He repeated it over and over to himself, trying to burn it into the hollowness that was supposed to contain a soul. This was fine. This was perfect. Way better than what he deserved, anyway.
Once he finished retying his ribbon, which slipped down along with the ink, he could safely say that the crisis was averted and he murdered, dismembered and buried the troublesome feelings away. They weren’t for the likes of him. Having you as his angel - that was enough.
So he knew the pain in his chest would pass soon. Yes, he was absolutely certain of it.