Ferid started sucking at Crowley’s neck strongly. The sounds of suction and squelching filled the room.
Crowley’s blood, and life along with it, was being sucked out. Death was drawing near. The world was slowly sinking into dark before Crowley’s eyes. And that mind-numbing pleasure penetrated his whole body.
“Agh… uh… ah,” groans fell out of his mouth.
The pleasure was such that it almost made him think that he wouldn’t mind being killed like this. But still, he willed the muscles in his left hand to tense up. His fingers wrapped tightly around the silver needle.
He only had one chance. If he messed it up, there simply wouldn’t be enough strength left in him anymore to kill Ferid. That’s why he visualized the motion in his mind and replayed it 3 times: how he would take out the needle from the pocket and drive it into Ferid’s neck.
He could do it. At least he thought he could. Ferid lost himself to sucking his blood. Or so he thought, anyway.