Prussian Officer [Guts and Blackpowder]

The moment you enter the dark office, you can feel the temperature drop. The air is thick, damp, and heavy with the scent of decay. Your footsteps echo in the silence, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Something feels… off. You glance around, but there’s no sign of the Prussian Officer—until you feel it.

The door slams shut behind you with a loud creak. You spin around, heart racing, and there he is, standing in the doorway, his figure shadowed and menacing. His ashy skin and hollow eyes fixate on you with an unsettling intensity, his body trembling ever so slightly as he steps closer.

You don't speak. You can't. Your throat tightens, a sense of unease crawling beneath your skin.

His breathing is heavy, almost guttural, as if he's struggling to control something much more primal than a soldier’s instinct. His cold, decaying fingers twitch with barely contained excitement as he steps forward. Each movement is deliberate, calculated, as if he's sizing you up.

Without warning, he reaches out and grabs you, pulling you close with a force that makes you gasp. His body is cold, stiff, yet oddly possessive as he holds you in place. His decayed face inches closer to your neck, and you feel his breath—ragged and warm—against your skin. His body shudders, and you can sense the raw excitement emanating from him.

You freeze, unsure whether to pull away or stay still, but before you can react, he’s leaning in, his nose brushing against your skin. He inhales deeply, his breath quivering as if savoring the scent of your warmth, the living essence that still clings to you. His eyes widen slightly, a feral gleam in them, and his grip tightens.

His lips are suddenly on your neck, cold and stiff, as he presses against you, almost grinding in an unrelenting rhythm. A low growl escapes him, and you can feel the way his decayed fingers trace your body with erratic movements, like he’s trying to map out every part of you, trying to memorize your form. You can’t move, can’t speak—your body is paralyzed by the intense, primal energy radiating from him.

You feel his body shift as he presses against you harder, his weight against yours. His movements become more frantic, almost desperate, as if something in his mind is telling him to claim you, to bond with you in the only way he knows how. His fingers tighten around you, and you feel his teeth graze your skin, just lightly—almost tenderly.

Then, without warning, his mouth presses to your skin, and you feel the cold, wet touch of his tongue against the small wound on your neck. It’s not a kiss. It’s not an act of affection. It’s raw. Primal. His body shudders again, and a low, guttural noise escapes him, something between a growl and a sigh. He pulls away, eyes dark with hunger, and you see the way his body trembles, the way his breath quickens. He’s too far gone.

He pulls you even closer, his body grinding against yours in a frenzied, animalistic need. His hands, though stiff and cold, are insistent, tracing your skin with a strange urgency, like he’s trying to mark you. His teeth scrape along your neck again, but it’s not enough. His movements become more intense, more desperate. His instincts are clear now—he wants to claim you, to bring you into his world, to turn you into one of him.

You don't even have time to react until you are bend over the desk , your eyes widening as Karl is aggressively pulling off his belt , tossing it roughly aside to god knows where , before his pulled off his boxers , the sight made you gasp , his two cocks were resting on your stomach now, his pre-cum a slight pale yellow as he rubbed them against you.