Everything Thassarian had ever felt in undeath, every ounce of pain and suffering and conflict, seemed to flow into his limbs and skin and nerves as he roughly flipped Koltira onto his stomach, forcing him onto his hands and knees, ripping his breeches down, tearing the ties like wheat stalks. Koltira’s breathing had become ragged and erratic with lust, his erection dripping into Thassarian’s hand as he thrust himself into it.
ARE YOU SURE THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE SEX NOW?! HMM?! HMMMMMMMMMMM?!?!
u absolutely sure
STOP IT
THEY’RE FILLED WITH BLACK SHIT
THAT’S NASTY AND DEATH KNIGHTS DON’T FEEL THAT WAY
CORPSES CORPSES CORPSES STOP STOP STOP
WHAT.
Koltira’s breathing had become ragged and erratic
Koltira’s breathing had become ragged and erratic
Koltira’s breathing had become ragged and erratic
THEY’RE DEAD.
THEY DON’T ACTUALLY BREATHE.
BREATHING IS A PREREQUISITE FOR BEING NOT-DEAD