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Does it matter that this Tiefling isn't breathing? No, a voice hums up Kressa's throat. No, it doesn't. She's dead-alive, some strange not-corpse. Beautiful: dark freckles over deep pink skin; the dark horns curling back from her forehead begin near-black but become bright red at their tips. The tiefling's head lolls back, limp.
Incredible, she whispers, pushing her lips to the temple. Kressa feels the tension of the jaw. What-is-not-dead strains beneath her, spasming in what Kressa can only assume is a desperate attempt to return to the waking realm. Beneath her hands, forearms strain. This corpse is fighting ferociously to regain its own life. Whatever magics bound it, she cannot tell.
Who were you, Kressa murmurs, running her tongue along bloodstained lips. She presses forward, strokes a sharp canine tooth with her tongue. Another spasm in the muscles of what should be dead. Here, she gazes lovingly down at the opening she has carved in the tiefling's abdomen: flesh held open and the sternum shattered. Rib bones jut in pale arches. Kressa shivers at the sight. As she watches organs steam, she reaches to grasp one of the rib bone ends that previously had been discarded.
It is the work of a moment to prepare herself. Examining the body has made her desirous already. Now, there is only the matter of gratification.
Her free hand tangles in the hair of the tiefling. Kressa yanks the girl's head back, watches the way the mouth falls open.
Hells, she groans. Inside of her, the rib bone feels perfect-- slick with gore, slick with want, with need. Kressa digs her teeth into the jugular of the not-corpse, rocks the bone deeper, meets it with a grind of her hips. In the back of her mind, she knows this should hurt, but the viscera, the blood--
-- makes it better. Makes it work.
Her head jerks back. The tiefling's jugular unzips itself between her teeth, a long strand of tissue peeling, oozing. Another stroke of the bone and Kressa is over the edge, tumbling, sinking her teeth into the neck again, gnawing, pulling, her thighs shaking with delight. Hers. This one is hers. Her perfect, perfect specimen.