Were he in his right mind, he might have expected she would have resisted him, would have been frightened at the difference that had suddenly come over him. But Desmond was not in his right mind now, the feel of her skin, the beating of her heart, the intense smell of her so keen he could pratically taste her flesh even before his lips moved to hers had drunken his senses until the rationality that once had shielded him was now cracked and broken at his feet, the animal inside free to roam, or in this case to claim Raina's innocence. Thus it was perhaps for the best that she had indeed given into this sensation, for he wouldn't have been able to stop himself had she not... though whether or not such things crossed her mind now likewise, did not matter in the slightest.
His hands kneaded hard her firm breasts, gripping them tightly as he tested them, felt them, and kissed them as well. She would feel the knowledge in his actions as he kissed them, though this was not from intention per se but from muscle memory of having done such things, of knowing exactly how to touch to evoke a response, and from the desire inside of him to explore those ripe breasts that she had teased him with before. His teeth dragged across the side of her breast, scratching deep red marks into it as he moved from one nipple to the other, lashing it lightly with his tongue as he watched her body move to his ministrations, her desire evident in sight and smell...
The panties, of course, were what went next with a firm grip and a tug. She issued words of encouragement at the action, but they fell upon deaf ears that did not appreciate the desire in them beyond the fact that they were giving in to something he would have done anyway. His hands slid down slowly then to her knees to force them to part as he started to slide between them. He felt her hands clawing desperately at his clothing and he shrugged it off, willing to be rid of the restrictiveness of it. Though as she pulled at his shirt she would feel him resist, his desire to taste her skin far greater than his desire to let her rid him of clothing.
After a moment though the tugging annoyed him enough that he raised and tugged it off himself, tossing it into the darkness as he looked down at her. In the moonlight she would see his pale form as if he were living marble, the way that the light played off of him was near perfection, firm hard muscles sculpted flawlessly from centuries of use and exercise, firm arms that if they belonged to a human would have easily been able to hold her over her head, but on a dhampir were probably strong enough to rip her in half if he had willed it. They lead up to pecks that looked like a firm steel shield across his chest, trailing off into the rows of flawless washboard abs that begged for fingertips to touch them and caress them.
Taking her action as perhaps an invitation for more his hands came down to her skirt and roughly tore it up the middle, the piece of it falling lightly down around the sides of her hips as his crystal eyes lowered down to her slit to inspect it, to look at her as he felt her shivering against him. Slowly nail-less fingers slipped down to slowly touch her, caressing her, watching the way that her hips moved, feeling them writhing against her as his fingertips lightly spread the lips of her sex to feel the heated warmth seeping from her, touching it lightly for a moment.