So this was the agony of being a newly turned vampire. The burning in your chest, the pain, the gnawing at your parched and sandy throat as if you are left sprawled in the burning ground of the sahara under the scorching heat of the middle eastern sun. Your limbs are tired and you are splayed on your back waiting for the vultures to come and kill you. It was as if you are being burned alive.
You feel that scorching feeling on your face, on your limbs, chest and even in your mouth. You smell that crisp, sun bathed scent that exudes from your skin, the saline, the fishlike fetid odour of sweat sluicing down your face in rivulets. Your body glistens from the sheen of sweat covering you body. You hallucinate, see images that slowly smother you. You mistake the scintillation from the sun as your salvation but it only hurts your eyes and leave you blind.
You breathe, but the thirst overwhelms your senses. You swallow but the push that you exert on your throat only causes you too much pain. Your tongue is dry, as dry as the land that have been ravished by the El Nino. Only blood could bring you rain—bring you life, and sanity again.
Crowley heaved and huffed. His breathing was shallow and he was in too much pain. His limbs were weak and his throat and chest burned as if it a molten iron had just been pressed into his throat and scraped down his chest. He groaned for all the life in him, a groan that had a ring of helplessness, like a wail of a wolf that had just been shot. Short exhalations and frantically beating heart, the sound of his clothes rustling and the clutter of his shoes on the ground drowned him, enclosed him to this world he was forcibly dragged into. He should've died. He should have. Death was a better thing than this agony.
He gurgles, his irises disappeared along with his sanity. His saliva seethes like a wild animal at the corner of his mouth. He grabbed his clothes and tore it. The sound of the fabric being turn asunder drowned the sound of the cluttering of heels that came towards him. But he stopped. Flaring his nose, he caught a whiff of the mortal scent of the human. Delicious, it smelt so very delicious that he couldn't help licking his lips. He snarled exposing his sharp fangs. He roused himself and fumbled on his hands and knees. He was too parched that he could no longer think.
The girl took a step back. With Crowley's hand outstretched, he crawled towards the girl desperately. But when his vision no longer blurred, he saw her innocent face and he felt guilty. He felt a pang of regret in his chest and he almost cursed God for allowing this to happen to him. Why had he forsaken him? Why did he left him like this? Rotting like a wild animal, turning slowly into a monster.
He clawed at his throat desperately, leaving scratches, red like a rose, budding with coagulated blood. He heard footsteps, light in their gait. The clutter of heels playful, bouncy. He knew who it was and then he heard him speak those honey covered words of his, with his voice so saccharine and sweet.
"Ah~! Crowley-kun. You've been deprived for days already. Won't you give in and drink blood from Ella over here? You'll feel better."
Crowley's body shook and his eyes grew wild, his pupils dilated pooling as red as ever, as red as a spider lily. Ferid laughed, a cold etude to Crowley's ears that reverberated into the walls and into his frantically beating heart. This was his master now, this accursed creature. He swallowed hard and tried rousing himself from being sprawled on the floor. He wanted to lunge at the girl and drink her to the last drop. He wanted to tear her apart and feed on her, but rather than crawling or lunging at the girl he only grunted and made muffled noises.
"Go on." The silver vampire goaded.
"Drink. Or do you want me to cut her for you first?"
Crowley couldn't speak, he couldn't think. He's handsome face streaked with sweat looked twisted. His desire for blood was drowning his guilt and reason. His mind was in tatters. He wanted to drink. He wanted to drink so much. But he couldn't so he just grabbed his neck and fell on his back. He didn't want to kill an innocent human being and play on the palm of his perverted companion who was really amused by this.
Crowley's body convulsed and he was grunting and heaving and truly in pain.
"You're as stubborn as ever Crowley-kun."
Ferid motioned the girl to leave. The girl bowed and went out of the room. Her footsteps faded but Crowley could still hear her. He could hear her beating heart, he could smell her milky rosemary scent and that only made his thirst worse.
Ferid turned to Crowley with his right hand on his hip.
"Come here, undress me."
"Ughh…Aaah."
"I'm offering you my blood. Come on before I change my mind."
Ferid's tone was quite dismissive, it was as if he was saying he wanted to get this done and over with. There was nothing in his voice that was sympathetic, it was rather cold and distant.
Crowley was hesitant at first, he was troubled and his instincts were rattled, but it was the only thing that could satiate the lust he feels deep within him. He crawled to him in an adrenaline induced effort. He grabbed Ferid and started undoing the other's ribbons frantically without the honor and grace of the soldier he once was.
"I know you're hungry, but please don't tear off my precious clothes."
Crowley undressed him desperately with his lungs out of oxygen his hands unravelling and picking the fabric of Ferid's clothes. When he finished undoing everything without any second thoughts or permission he tore Ferid's garb. The tearing noises echoed in the vicinity as well as his moans and grunts. He forcefully pushed Ferid's face upward so that he could expose his neck better. Then, he sunk his fangs on the vampire's translucent skin where tiny strings of red and green strands of vein were tangled and bare.
He pressed the silver vampire against him and sucked him hard with the vehemence of a whirlpool. It was if he was going to tear off the thin skin on Ferid's neck. He moaned when finally he felt the warm blood trickle into his mouth, his voice raspy, even sonorous to a certain extent because of the lust and the hunger. It felt warm on his tongue, it tasted so sweet, so delectable. It was something new to his palate, it was sweeter than wine, thicker than the liquor.
He pressed Ferid more forcefully against him, it was almost as if he was trying to crush him. He felt him, his bones, the slenderness of his body but he didn't think of any of this, because he was so focused on his hunger. When he was able to compose himself, his nose caught a whiff of the vampire's scent. It tickled and gave his nose a prickling feeling. It came to him in a crescendo and when he finally caught the extent of his sweet smell it was as if horns blasted directly into his ears.
Ferid smelled of iron. If haemoglobin had any scent this would probably be it. And then he caught that rising mix of the aroma of lavender and talcum powder. Then came the candy after taste so fleeting it seduced his senses. It was so elusively sweet it made him feel a comforting feeling for a moment, it was euphoria in a scent. He heaved him in to give himself the same sensation but this time, he felt like he wanted to eat him. He wanted to taste the nectar of this wild lavender in his arms. He licked Ferid's neck and bit him once again. He pushed him down and rubbed his nose on Ferid's neck and then upwards to his ears with heaving lungs that rang in his companion's ears. He burried his face on Ferid's silver locks and breathed him in. He reeked of blood. Of the coppery scent mixed with lavender and talcum.
He couldn't help thinking his perverted companion was delicious. With intensity comparable to swelling libido, he plunged his fangs on the other's flesh again and ate him raw.